


94. Midnight Excursion

by cognomen, MayGlenn



Series: In The Hands of Destiny [7]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Again, Angst, As close to wedding vows as these two are gonna get, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Unsafe Seventh Doan Attaining, baze leaves, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-11-21 02:56:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11348421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cognomen/pseuds/cognomen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayGlenn/pseuds/MayGlenn
Summary: Maybe Baze is right about everything, and I am wrong.Grasp the bird's tail.Maybe there is no all-powerful Force, binding everything together.Single whip.Maybe what I think I see and feel is part of my blindness. Maybe I am just a crazy blind man.White crane spreads its wings.Chirrut grunted, and shook out his wrist, going loose and losing his stance. This wasn't helping. He couldn't find his focus without Baze. And that was bad. What kind of monk did that make him? A terrible one.Or—or maybe this would make his faith stronger, after he sorted himself out, after the Force answered his questions.Baze left—maybe Chirrut should leave, too.





	1. Chapter 1

This time, there was no secrecy. Baze promised to take care of himself, not to be gone long (and he didn't intend it as a lie, though they were both aware of how it could be)—to go just far enough to feel like he was stretching his wings out, and then return. He wanted to feel—he wasn’t sure. He wanted to feel like the decision was his. The rest had nagged at him some, sitting in the back of his mind as he attended prayers, as he swept the hall and practiced the ten thousand forms with the students.

So, he said goodbye—kissed Chirrut on the forehead and promised he’d be back. His pack of belongings was very small—clothes, a comb, some ties for his ever-lengthening hair. It was enough to see him on his way. 

As he walked, well bundled, through the city of Jedha, he wondered at how familiar it had become in the time he’d spent there. The first night—as a guard on the steps of the temple—it had seemed foreign and cold and miserable. Now, he saw far deeper. Like an unfolding flower, he knew how to follow the lines of streets into the heart of the city. He headed for the spaceport, though he called out a greeting to the cloth-seller, and waved at her as he passed. Soon enough, the disciples would need re-outfitting. They would graduate past the first doan to the second. They were also, Baze thought, getting taller like the weeds he pulled in the inner gardens.

Once at the spaceport, Baze made a few plans in his thoughts. He had enough credits left from his salary as a soldier—now that he’d been restored to a free man—to book passage on a ship that would get him back to the inner core of the galaxy. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go quite that far, but—somewhere. He tried to be on the alert for any sensation that the Force was about to punish him again, but he was sure that nothing he felt was out of the ordinary.

Maybe, he thought, he could pick up some supplies to surprise Chirrut with on his return. Jedha wasn’t particularly well stocked when it came to—just about everything except sand and ice. He was making a mental list when his eyes fell on a man set up along one wall of the space port with a blanket laid out and wares for sale on it. Two of the three items on his list were there, and Baze had a moment with the Force.

_ Really _ ? he asked it, internally.  _ Now? Here? _

The Force, as usual, had no answer for him. He expected it never would. 

“What’s your story, friend?” the man called out. “That’s some scar!”

Baze lifted his hand to the still-pink line beneath his eye—usually he forgot it was even there, these days. “I had a bad time with some slavers.”

The man behind the blanket nodded, and beckoned Baze closer, and Baze came to the edge of his domain and crouched down. “I got diverted from my final destination, and separated from most of my cargo. Won’t you help me get on my way again? I just need a few credits to get back on a ship...”

“Is this the sort of cargo you’re selling?” Baze asked, digging out his wallet from the interior of his robes. 

“Part of it,” the man agreed. “Doesn’t seem to be very popular around here.”

“You should try the street with the red lanterns on it,” Baze said, trading the man credits for the items he wanted. “In fact, there’s a definite  _ lack  _ of this kind of thing here. If you do well down there, you might think of making here your next destination. I can think of a few people who need a steady supply of prophylactics...”

“With red lanterns on it, eh?” the man asked. “Can you get me there?”

Baze looked one last time at the space port, then helped the man carry his boxes of condoms and lubricant toward the better location, feeling no shame. In the end, he slipped a few more of his credits in amongst the man’s things, and told him if he couldn’t find a place to sleep, he should come to the temple.

Then, dusting his hands, with his pack still on his back, he turned his eyes back toward the space port, and sighed out.

_Alright_ , he told the Force. _I get it. I’ll stay._

It was evening when he returned to Chirrut, setting his pack down inside their room—and finding it surprisingly empty.

...

_ Maybe Baze is right about everything, and I am wrong.  _

Grasp the bird's tail. 

_ Maybe there is no all-powerful Force, binding everything together.  _

Single whip. 

_ Maybe what I think I see and feel is part of my blindness. Maybe I’m just a crazy blind man.  _

White crane spreads its wings. 

_ Maybe what I think is the Force is just coincidence.  _

Brush knee twist step.

_ Has Baze corrupted me, or is Baze right to doubt?  _

Turn and punch. 

Chirrut grunted, and shook out his wrist, going loose and losing his stance. This didn't feel good. It wasn't helping. He couldn't find his focus without Baze. And that was bad. What kind of monk was he? 

A terrible one. Or—or maybe this would make his faith stronger, after he sorted himself out, after the Force answered his questions. 

Baze left—maybe Chirrut should leave, too. 

The mountain, yes. He should go up to the mountain. It was time.

Chirrut told only Epan Se, the sternest of the Head Masters, who wouldn't try to stop him. He didn’t tell Sidhava, who would stop him, because he deemed it only the most austere trial for even the sighted monks, and he didn’t tell Alussa and Nan-in, who would go after him. Chirrut didn't want anyone going after him. 

It was a good thing Baze was gone. 

It  _ was _ dangerous making the pilgrimage up the mountain, and cold, but Chirrut never felt closer to the Force than when he was up there, relying on the Force to direct his climb. No staff. No echo-box. No one had ever let him get to the top. This time, he was going to.

And, a miserable part of Chirrut thought, if the Force  _ wasn't  _ real and he died up there on the mountain, at least nothing would keep drawing Baze back to the Temple against his will. 

Chirrut didn't get many opportunities to run, flat-out, sprinting. There wasn't much space for it in the city, and certainly not for a blind man, where there were many obstacles to run into. And Chirrut liked running. He liked the freedom of it. It was maybe as close as he could ever get to flying. 

Here, in the desert, growing cold and with nothing in his way except for the mountain, Chirrut could follow the lines of the Force and just  _ run _ .


	2. Chapter 2

Baze checked at prayer, and didn’t see Chirrut—this was strange, in and of itself. Chirrut’s room also felt cold, and Baze could tell their small heater (mostly for his benefit) hadn’t been run in a while. He set down his pack, walking the dimensions of the cell, and then went to find Nan-in. Perhaps Chirrut was with his friends for support.

Instead, Baze found Nan-in hard at work scrubbing the floor in the infirmary, and he didn’t step inside to spare him more work.

“Short trip!” Nan-in said sounding cold. “Did your transport get delayed?”

“I—” Baze started, and then faltered, blushing faintly. How to put this? “I changed my mind. I think the Force intervened. I’m sorry I worried you all. Have you seen Chirrut?”

“No, he wasn’t at prayer,” Nan-in said. “I assumed he was laying on his pining couch and wasting away in his room.”

“Nan-in!” Alussa scolded, peering around from one of the supply cabinets, which she was busy re-organizing. “I haven’t seen him all afternoon. Come to think of it, that’s strange. If you’re here.”

“Very strange,” Nan-in agreed. “Check the baths and the gardens?”

“I will, thank you,” Baze said, nodding at them both.

“Hey, if you find him, tell him we kicked your ass,” Nan-in said. “I’d offer to give you a black eye to convince him, but you can just tell him I did and he won’t know the difference.”

“Nan-in!” Alussa scolded. He grinned at her, and shrugged.

“I’ll tell him,” Baze said, smiling. “Thank you for being such good friends.”

Baze checked the baths, and the gardens—no luck. Slow concern was unfolding in Baze’s stomach—he’d expected to find Chirrut doing his copying, or reading one of the braille texts Baze had slowly been accumulating to incorporate into the Temple library. He couldn’t, however, seem to find Chirrut at all. 

He was in the midst of searching the common room when Sidhava spotted him. 

“Brother Baze,” he said, sounding surprised. “I thought you were going on a—spiritual journey?”

“Have you seen Master Chirrut?” Baze asked, hoping against hope. “I came back, but he’s not in our room, or anywhere else I can find.” 

Sidhava frowned, sensing in Baze's urgency that he had checked everywhere quite thoroughly. 

"No. He has not checked in with me all day. I could ask the other Head Masters. He must have checked in with one of us, unless he went for a wander in the city, or did something else he wasn't supposed to..." Sidhava paused, but now the thought had come to him, he couldn't ignore it. "If he's not back by nightfall, I'll call a meeting. We thought you would be gone...longer, Baze Malbus. I rather expected him to be sulking all day." 

Sidhava folded his arms, never one to miss a recruitment opportunity. "So. Did you just forget something, in coming back, or are you planning to take Oaths?

Baze looked sheepish, feeling called to task. He shook his head. “I think the Force gently guided me back. In language even someone as blind to the Force as I am couldn’t miss.”

He hoped he wouldn’t have to explain why, at least in any great detail. He’d rather throw himself off the top of the Temple and trust the Force to give him a soft landing.

“I—meant to go, but I had second thoughts,” Baze admitted. “Maybe third thoughts. Fourth ones. Master Sidhava, everyone here seems to be able to listen to the Force, but I don’t feel—anything like that. Sometimes things I see I know must be connected...”

Sidhava gave Baze a bemused smile. "That's not prohibitive. I think our Order wouldn't hurt for fewer Force Sensitives who don't care to use the Force for good, and more beings who have strong hearts and good heads on their shoulders, who study our tenets to make the galaxy a better place more than for their own knowledge."

Baze struggled to continue. “I could hardly be as useful to your Order as Chirrut is.” 

"Chirrut does happen to be both." Sidhava sighed and touched Baze's shoulder. "I'm sure he'll turn up, but I'll ask around. In the meantime, search  _ your  _ heart, Baze, and let me know. Unless you want to go back to scrubbing chamber-pots with Dyl. It takes all kinds."

“I can’t promise I wouldn’t drown him in one,” Baze said, but he was clearly considering it. He sighed, and then looked up at Sidhava, giving his head a little shake.

When Sidhava turned as if to leave, Baze spoke up again:

“I commit,” he said. “When I allowed the Force to turn me back, I accepted that I would, I think. I can’t stand with my feet on both sides of the line forever.” 

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, looking over his shoulder. “I would have liked Chirrut to hear that first, but he’ll know as soon as he sees me, anyway.”

“That’s Destiny,” Sidhava said. “If you find him before sundown, let me know, Brother Baze. I’ll let you give your oaths directly to him.” 

...

When the ground grew steep in front of Chirrut’s feet, he laughed. He had made it to the mountain. 

He could tell by how cold his sweat was on him that it was nightfall. Chirrut liked the night time. It was where he was on equal ground with everyone else. Going up the mountain at night was no more dangerous for him than it was in the day. It gave him power. 

Except  _ something  _ was telling him to go back. 

_ Baze _ ...? 

No, Baze was gone. And even if he  _ were _ back, what Chirrut was doing now had nothing to do with Baze, and everything to do with Chirrut's faith. 

_ (Yeah, just keep telling yourself that.) _

Angry, now, Chirrut left his shoes behind, as was customary, hiked up his robes, and began to climb. 

...

"Mister Malbus. I'm a little surprised to see you..." Master Epan Se let the end of his sentence hang suggestively:  _ alive _ ?  _ here _ ?  _ at all _ ? He gave Baze a thin smile, his words just on this side of amicable so that Baze couldn't immediately take offense. "Have you not left yet? Or just returned? Which is it, this time?"

Baze has learned to watch his tone and demeanor around Epan Se, a master who had a more rigid code than the monks and nuns typically enforced. He lowered his head respectfully, giving it a shake.

“I will not be leaving again,” he revealed. “I apologize for my indecisiveness. I’ll be taking oaths.”

“Master Epan Se,” Sidhava said, moderately, dominating the table at which the convening masters sat. “We are here to answer a question that does not already have one. I am satisfied with Brother Baze’s answer to our calling.”

In truth, Sidhava found Epan Se almost insufferably inflexible—and, generally, insufferable; monks with attitudes like his were the reason for the decline in numbers within the order. Too rigid, too interested in beating the old code into children if they did not automatically conform to it. His narrow view extended more to the words on the page than the Force in his life.

“Guardian Chirrut is missing,” Sidhava continued, when he had everyone’s attention. “It seems serious, as we’ve been attempting to locate him for several hours. Does anyone know his whereabouts?” 

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" Epan Se replied mildly. "He checked in with me before attempting the Seventh Doan. I prayed with him and he was on his way. Bound and determined to see the top of that mountain—well, you know, not  _ see _ ..."

Master Sidhava practically snarled, wheeling on his fellow master with naked anger. “Master Epan Se, what  _ time _ was this? You know we only allow ascent in the spring; the temperatures this evening will drop well below the safe threshold.”

Epan Se blinked at Sidhava in surprise. "Why, Master Sidhava, the Force wills what the Force wills. If Master Chirrut is in need of soul-searching now, he would be left in doubt and anguish until spring. Perhaps if Mister Baze had not led him to question so many of his beliefs and, if I may speak plainly, to sacrifice his bodily purity, then Brother Chirrut wouldn't be out there right now."

Sidhava’s mouth firmed out into a long, thin line. He tried, briefly, to remind himself that the petty disputes of this world were not worth descending out of his own attempts toward nirvana to address. 

Then, promptly, he reached out with his staff and took Epan Se’s feet directly out from under him.

“It seems someone has not been following all of the tenants either,” Sidhava said, straightening his back and standing over his fellow master. “The first of which being ‘keep the body fit so that the mind may best understand.’ You yourself, if I recall, only succeeded the Seventh Doan on your third attempt with the full support of your other Guardians...

“I repeat my question, because you would not know your own Destiny if it bit you in the face, and you have the audacity to suggest Chirrut is the blind one,” Master Sidhava continued, radiating his displeasure. “At what time did Master Chirrut leave the temple?” 

"He left early this morning," the master said, cowed more than convinced. "You know how he is not easily dissuaded."

Sidhava turned to Baze. "Have you ever ridden a tauntaun? The Temple has only the one, and she is quite old." 

It was already getting cold enough that the animal might not survive the night, much less Chirrut.

“A speeder bike would be better,” Baze said, somewhat stunned by the events of the last few moments. 

“A speeder bike can’t operate at those temperatures, if we even had one,” Sidhava said, sighing. “I’m worried that even the Tauntaun might not.”

“We had animals at one of my bases on patrol. I can ride,” Baze said. “I’ll try not to endanger her unless I feel it’s really an emergency. May I have some extra thermal blankets?”

“There’s an emergency pack with tinder for a fire and emergency warmth supplies,” Sidhava said. “Go and see Alussa.”

“You,” he told Epan Se, sternly, reaching down to help him up begrudgingly. “Are to remember that being jealous and spiteful are not tenants that this order follows.” 

...

"Chirrut is  _ where _ ?!" Alussa shrieked, when Baze told her. She didn't even mind that Baze had interrupted Nan-in kissing her, and promptly shoved Nan-in off her and onto the floor to get Baze an emergency pack. 

"He didn't tell us," Nan-in said, sounding hurt, though whether because Chirrut hadn't let them know he was leaving or because Baze had cut him off between first and second, even he wasn't sure. 

"He is just  _ daring _ the Force," she grumbled, slamming a pack into Baze's hands. "That's what this is. He's trying to get himself killed and trusting the Force to save him, if it will."

"Let us go with you. I owe  _ him  _ an ass-kicking for this," Nan-in said.

“Master Sidhava said I should take the Tauntaun,” Baze said. “He seemed to think it was more important that I get there quickly.”

He took the pack and slung it on. 

“We’ll try and borrow a speeder so we can  set up a camp at the base of the mountain,” Nan-in said. “We’ll have medical supplies in case that fool got frostbite.”

Alussa nodded, agreeing, beginning to gather things up together. “We’ll see you there, okay? We’ll follow on foot if we have to. Tell Chirrut if he doesn’t want to come back that  _ we’ll  _ be freezing to death as we wait for him.”

Baze nodded, and shouldered his rifle as well as the emergency supplies before he headed down to the stables where Nan-in led him for the tauntaun. 

“She’s old, but good tempered,” Nan-in said, sighing as he reached up to pat the animal affectionately. “The skies looked clear, but as you get higher you might run into snow. I’ll put her blanket on under her saddle, alright?” 

"Give her two, just in case," Alussa said, binding wool around her limbs as well. "Yes, old girl, I know you hate it, but you're gonna hate the cold much more." 

She stood up, and faced Baze, slipping mitts on over his gloves. "You'll want these when you're riding. You can give them to Chirrut when you see him.  _ Be careful _ ."

"Yeah, and if you need to tie him up and strap him to the back of Bessie here, he'd  _ probably _ go for that," Nan-in joked, and handed Baze the reins. "Be careful. We'll be right behind you."

Baze led her out into the freezing air, and swung himself up into the saddle. It was different from riding the big lizards he’d gotten used to in his time on Tatooine, but he remembered the basics. He gave her a gentle pat, leaning forward.

“We have to go get Chirrut,” he told her, quietly. “If you can hear the Force better than I can, girl, I’d appreciate your help.”

They had to cover the whole plains between the city and the mountains first, and Baze waved to Nan-in and Alussa loading up supplies before he headed out, starting slow to warm the animal up slowly, to save her strength for later when she’d need it most. Still, she was fast, once she got going, and well protected against the cold, despite his worries. 

At the base of the mountain, he looked for signs of Chirrut’s passage, and then quickly found his shoes at the trailhead, and signs of his bare footprints—or so he thought, anyway. There was no sign of his staff.

“You idiot,” Baze muttered, sighing, He swung himself back up into the saddle and followed the trail up. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chirrut didn't feel the cold, because the Force protected him from feeling. He kept moving, kept flexing his fists, though, because he needed his fingers to feel where he was going to climb up next. He had gotten at least this far once before, when he was playing with Alussa and Nan-in...

He shouldn't even be thinking of them, now. Too attached, as always, Chirrut. 

"I am one with the Force, the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, the Force is—"

He put his hand on thin air, and realized he had reached a ridge. Patting it carefully, mapping it, Chirrut hauled himself over. His lungs burned with cold and exertion, and he lay there trying to catch his breath—but not too long. Rolling carefully over, Chirrut crawled on hands and knees until he determined there was no new cliff face to climb here, not yet, and slowly got to his feet. There were plants around him, he realized, as he padded his feet forward. And where there were plants, there was—

Chirrut stopped where the lines of the Force stopped. A gorge opened up below him, the sound of rushing water not quite frozen solid yet, though the space might have been a thin crack he could leap over or the other side of the mountain, for all Chirrut knew. The Force had provided. 

Good. It would get him to the top, then. And there he could light a fire, and sleep, and try to imagine sleeping in Baze's arms...

"Clear your mind, Chirrut," he snapped, aloud. His voice echoed back to him. He dropped to hands and knees again, feeling along the edge until it turned into another cliff face. "A new way up." 

Good. He shivered, blew on his hands, and began to climb.

...

Baze followed the trail until it turned into a cliff face, and then reconsidered everything. Had he come the wrong way? The Tauntaun was shifting restlessly back and forth, protesting the cold and the hours of riding. Baze felt it, too, the early onset soreness that came from using muscles to ride that he didn’t normally use—even in the most obscure of the ten thousand forms.

He debated going back along the path, since it was quite dark and he wasn’t sure if he’d missed anything—perhaps there was a turn-off that led around to a different approach, or the path continued somewhere. How was he having more trouble finding a path up than the blind man?

He got down off the Tauntaun’s back, to check the path for any sign of Chirrut’s passage. 

Baze nearly covered up the bare footprints with his own, in the thin red dust gathered at the face of a ledge, nearly chest high. He’s pretty sure they’re Chirru’ts - they’re fresh enough.  

And they were right in front of the cliff face. Baze sighed, hesitant to leave the Tauntaun behind. 

“Is there another way, girl?” Baze wondered, checking the ground, making sure she was still warm enough under the blankets. 

Bessie gave Baze an unimpressed look. She may be a mountain-tauntaun but she wasn't a cliff-tauntaun. Sneezing icy snot onto Baze's clothes, she backed him up and then led him to a face where she could climb. With a patient look, she waited for Baze to climb aboard again, and managed several surprisingly graceful hops up the steep hill. 

...

High above them, Chirrut felt the wind whipping at his hair and clothes, and he shut his eyes completely against the stinging wind. Wind was good, it meant he was almost there. How would he know when he reached the top-top, he wondered, except for crawling around on the frozen stones and feeling about for anything that went further up? It wasn't very dignified, but he was here to prove a point to himself, and neither death nor the Force demanded much dignity. 

His grip slipped on a loose stone, and he hung briefly by two numb fingers and wondered if it would be easier to just let go. 

It was the thought of Baze and not the Force that brought his other arm back up.

Chirrut kept climbing. It was easier and easier to lean on the thought of Baze, the further up he got, and the colder. Baze would come back, one day, and Chirrut needed to be there. He needed to do this  _ for _ Baze. 

Chirrut winced against an outcropping where he stopped to catch his breath. His fingers were bleeding, so he tore strips off his robe to wrap his hands. He should take better care of his hands. He needed them to touch Baze's face, and to study, to  _ see _ . 

"What am I  _ doing  _ up here?" he asked aloud, tugging on his hair. The lines of the Force were confused, now, and of no help—if they  _ were  _ Force-lines and not some delusion. And if the Force wasn't real, then he would die up here trying to attain the Seventh Doan for a religion that didn't matter. 

"I am one with the Force," he whispered, and the Force-lines shimmered and shifted as he prayed. "The—Force is with me?" 

Now they had solidified, pointing up, and down, like he had two choices. Go back now, and live? Go up, and trust. 

Chirrut reached for a handhold, and continued up.

...

Far behind, Baze scanned ever upward, seeing the way the peaks rose high overhead, turning from an incline to the sheer vertical climb. He reached a plateau at the higher elevation, and he could hear sluggish, running water from one side—a running stream, half frozen, heading further down the mountain. He should stop and heat water to boiling, and feed himself something hot—and the Tauntaun as well. Look for shelter. 

But it was urgent that he find Chirrut. He was  _ worried _ , and he knew this foolish attempt was all his fault. He still carried the words with him from Epan Se. They sat under his skin like needles, urging him onward. 

“Chirrut!” he called, hoping that maybe the fool had stopped and taken shelter—but no such luck. 

Baze carefully dragged a canteen full of icy water out of the stream, and then lead Bessie to some shelter, breaking a chemical warming pack open and using it to heat the water for her mash, carefully rubbing down her coat and covering her with the blankets before he encouraged her to settle in, to wait.

“I’m sorry, girl,” he told her, patting her head. “I’ll be back for you. Thank you.”

He had no idea if talking to her even mattered, but he did it anyway, hoping she’d be alright. It was even  _ colder _ up here if that was possible, and didn’t promise to get any better. He felt along the cliff with his well-mittened hands, and then began to hoist himself slowly up. He had to stop, tucking the mittens back into his belt, before he felt along higher now, the rock ice-cold to the touch. Quickly, the muscles in his shoulders and back started to protest—it was cold, his muscles were all damaged, anyway, and though they were healed enough for most things, this was well beyond that.

“Chirrut, if you aren’t dead when I find you, I’m going to...kiss you,” Baze growled to himself. “Then, probably I’ll kill you myself.” 

...

Chirrut was sure he couldn't go on any further now. His limbs were shaking and weak (probably from today's fasting, though it was his own fault not bringing water), but he pulled himself up onto this outcropping with an unattractive grunt and lay there on his face, panting. He was sweating so much he wasn't even cold, and everything was shaky from exertion. But the Force had got him this far. Surely it could get him the rest of the way? 

When he felt he could, Chirrut began running his palms and his feet over the ground, looking for another way up. The wind  _ was _ pretty strong up here, enough to worry him he might be blown off, but he crawled about and felt the edges all the way around before he could be sure. Except for a few large, round, oddly warm boulders, the space was flat. 

There was no where else to go. This was the top.

Chirrut laid back down, starfishing the mountain like it was the most comfortable bed. He had done it! 

"I've done it!" he cried to the wind, which was whipping all around him now, with nothing to shield him, and he didn’t care. 

"The Force is with me! And I am one with the Force!" he said, and laughed. 

And he might have laid there all night, curled up amongst the boulders, and quite possibly have died of exposure, if he hadn't heard an echo answer him.

"Chirrut! CHIIIIRUUUT!" 

If Chirrut didn't know any better, he might have thought the voice sounded like Baze.

Of course, it was Baze, just now beginning to ascend the final cliff below Chirrut—and unlike Chirrut, he could see, so he needed only his strength and good judgment to get him up to the pinnacle. It didn’t register to him how close he was to the summit, he was so exhausted that he flopped over and down, feeling how much his back ached. It was hard to see anything in the darkness.

“Damn the Force if I missed him somewhere on the way,” Baze grumbled, looking across the small space into a cave beyond the outcropping he was standing on. He thought he could see—motion?—maybe Chirrut had stopped here, maybe he could...

“Chirrut?” he asked.

What was it about not climbing the mountain at night again...?

Then all hell broke loose. There was the sound of massive wings cutting the air and Baze could feel the air stirring against the back of his neck just the instant before talons seized him and he wheeled around, trying to get his blaster rifle free from his back. Massive claws snatched at Baze’s jacket, lifting him off the ground and into the air, taking him up the mountain at a rapid rate.

"Baze!" Chirrut cried, hearing a swooping rush of air far below and then a screech—and then Baze cried out, and there was a shot. 

It didn't even register as  _ odd  _ that Baze was here, now that Chirrut was sure he heard him—he wasn’t a dedicated Guardian to something called the Force of  _ Others  _ for nothing—and as he drew strength from Baze’s presence, the lines of the Force outlined a great creature, bird-like and huge and hungry. A sudden terror gripped him: would the Force hurt  _ Baze  _ to punish him for his doubt? 

"Baze!" 

With panicked strength replacing the empty exhaustion of victory, Chirrut swung over the edge and skidded down from the pinnacle, heedless of danger. 

The Force would protect him. 

He just really wasn't sure the Force was going to protect  _ Baze _ . 

Chirrut slid to a ledge and hit the ground roughly, sure his feet and hands hadn't fared well after that last stunt, but he heard the sounds of a fight still further below, so he tumbled the rest of the way down at it like he could feel no pain and like he was scaling the familiar walls of his temple rather than the side of a mountain where any wrong move could result in a very long drop. .

Now the creature dropped Baze, turning toward the sudden motion of Chirrut descending, and it shrieked, hot breath painting over Chirrut’s face as it snapped at him, warding him away from its catch while Baze struggled to get his rifle out from under himself. 

When it lunged for Chirrut, Baze grabbed hold of it by the legs, holding tight, refusing to let it catch his friend, especially on so narrow a ledge. He held on, and then the huge bird turned on him again, snapping at him with its beak as Baze struggled to keep control of the talons on its wicked feet, to overpower something so much bigger and more powerful.

“Chirrut, watch out for the wings! Hang on!” Baze warned, as the creature clamped its beak down on his arm, hard, drawing blood, and then tried to lift itself off when Baze still didn’t let go, to carry him away again. 

It was huge and moved fast, but Chirrut wasn't going to let it hurt Baze. He picked up a stone and used the cliff face to leap down on it from above, grabbing a handful of feathers, and smacking it where the screeching was coming from, getting a satisfying crunch as stone connected with beak. 

That seemed to startle the creature, and it gave a great shake and a scream, and Chirrut tumbled free and rolled. The lines of the Force were trembling with pain—Baze must be hurt—or else he was and hadn’t noticed yet—so Chirrut could no longer track the creature except by sound.

"Baze, Baze, what's going on?" he demanded, sprinting towards the sound of his voice.

The bird considered both of them with great, luminescent eyes, turning down toward its injured, intended prey and then back toward Chirrut, mantling its wings, looking back and forth before finally it trained its eyes on Chirrut. It seemed confused as to why Chirrut showed no sign of intimidation from its display and surrendered a step, two, to the ledge.

With one last glance at the monk holding a rock, deciding, perhaps, it might be rabid and bad eating, or else it was defending its mate and would sell its life dearly, the creature lifted its wings and went in search of easier prey, disappearing with a whispering-rush of feathers into the night. 

Baze coughed, and sat up. His arm was cut up, the ground was freezing, and he felt like he’d climbed a mountain—which he had.

“Chirrut,” he said, picking himself up slowly. “Go careful, you’re near the edge—and it’s a long way down.” 

Chirrut heard the beast winging away, and he dropped the rock and ran to Baze's arms, stepping with his former Force-given confidence. 

"Baze!" he cried, colliding with him and pulling him into a kiss. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be gone! Baze, are you hurt?" 

Chirrut felt along Baze's arm, finding blood welling there, and at least two gashes, so he tore more strips from his robes—he was nearly bare to his waist, now—to wrap the wound.

“No, Chirrut it’s too cold to—I have—” Baze tried to protest—if they got back down the slope, there were first aid supplies in the bag he’d left with Bessie. He sat up, and put his arms around Chirrut, pulling him against him to stop him from getting naked in this freezing cold. 

“Chirrut,” Baze said, steady, even, stopping him. “I didn’t go. That’s all. I got a message from the Force to stay—not anything amazing or profound or loud or...I mean, it’s barely tangible.”

Chirrut was smiling.

“Now if you’ll stop tearing your clothes off,” Baze continued. “Just put your arm around my shoulder and we can try to get down again together. It’s too cold to stay up here, and that bird might come back if we hang around too long. I left a first aid kit with Bessie.” 

"I'm not hurt," Chirrut protested, but wound his arms around Baze to support him. 

“I’m asking for  _ your _ support,” Baze said, leaning on Chirrut. 

"Oh," Chirrut hissed, continuing to pat him down, but through his numb fingers and Baze's thick clothes he could find no other injury, except that Baze was still losing blood from his arm. He felt it running down his shoulder. 

Baze began picking their path down, and then Chirrut drew up sharply, holding them back.

"Oh, wait," Chirrut said, and waved back. "Can you see—or is it too dark?— _ Did _ I get to the top? Don't lie to me, Baze, I wouldn't want to have climbed up some pinnacle that wasn't the highest point and then go tell everyone I climbed the mountain."

“You made it,” Baze said. “I didn’t.” 

"Well, you have to go in order, anyway," Chirrut said, and was choked with emotion suddenly: “That means you’re  _ going  _ to, doesn’t it?” 

“I’d better,” Baze said. “I want to reach the level Master Sidhava’s at, so I can _ also _ kick Epan Se’s ass.”

Baze was going to take oaths. He wouldn't be here if he wasn't. Chirrut smiled, and tears froze on his lashes. The Force  _ was _ with him! The Force was with  _ them _ ! 

“I think you made the bird mad. There wasn’t a nest up there, was there?”

Chirrut shook his head, then laughed, a little manic. “Oh,  _ that’s  _ what those were!” 


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re a fool.” Baze could feel that Chirrut’s exposed skin was cold, wet. “You’re going to die of exposure. Why are you up here?”

"Why?" Chirrut parroted, and sniffed. His eyes and smile were bright, like his life force was keeping his body hot and alive, like if he weren't in a freezing desert, he might spontaneously combust. "To prove to everyone that the Force will protect me. Even myself."

Baze sighed out, a long, slow, heavy sound. “Your friends are here to protect you. _I’m_ here to protect you.”

"Of course!" Chirrut said, and laughed. "Do you think I would have any less faith in the Force because you had a hand in its will?"

Baze’s heart swelled with emotion. He’d seen the way that bird backed away when Chirrut had faced up to it. Something in Chirrut had just...been enough. Sent the danger away. Some call-and-answer had been fulfilled.

No matter how many oaths Baze might take, he might never fully understand that, but he couldn’t deny it happened, either. He shook his head.

“Alussa and Nan-in are camped at the base of the mountain waiting for us,” Baze told Chirrut, as they made their way down the mountain. “But on the next plateau down we can—get a fire going. Drink some water. Warm up and dry off your clothes.”

He shivered. “Your hands are like ice.”

Chirrut nodded, willing to agree to anything, walk all the way to the Temple with Baze on his back if he needed to. Baze was _here_. If Baze asked him to, he could fly.

"We'll see to that wound," he added. "Nan-in and Alussa came? I didn't _want_ anyone to come after me. It's dangerous."

“Of course it’s dangerous,” Baze grumbled. “It’s cold enough to freeze the moisture in your eyeballs if you slow down. And you without even a single blanket or drop of water.”

"Well, it's part of the..." Chirrut began to lie, then shook his head. "The Force sent me you, and you brought water."

When they made the next level, the wide plateau where he’d left Bessie, he pulled Chirrut toward the densite he’d left her in, sheltered by a few small trees. He found her curled up, her sensitive nose tucked under one of her well-furred paws, and Baze pats her gently—she’s cold, too.

"Oh, Bessie! You poor dear," Chirrut cried, trying to rub warmth into her fur and only then realizing how cold his fingers were.

“You, sit down next to the tauntaun. I’ll start a fire and heat some water,” Baze said, pulling an emergency blanket out of Bessie’s saddle pack and wrapping it around Chirrut’s shoulders. “I love you any which way you are, but I should prefer it if you kept all your fingers and toes.”

"Then you'll let me help you. Sitting still will make it worse. And your arm needs to be dressed." The wind wasn't so bad here. It was comparatively balmy.

"I can gather wood," Chirrut said, going down to his hands and knees to pick up sticks amongst the small trees. "Do we have enough water? And bandages?"

“Yes,” Baze said. “There’s a stream over there, and if it’s frozen over we can break it with the pick. Even ice will melt once I get the fire going.”

Chirrut still felt sick that Baze had gotten hurt because of him—and not a mark on himself! Chirrut didn't really think the Force would _punish_ him, no matter what Master Epan Se said, but if it did, it certainly knew how best to do it.

"I'll let you light the fire," Chirrut said, returning with an offering of sticks.

The blood was drying—or freezing, it was hard to tell—on Baze’s arm by now. He gathered up the tinder, stacked the sticks carefully, along with the long-burning emergency heat log they’d sent up with him, and struck twice with the flint to get the fire going—it flared up bright and quick, but not so fast the bigger log didn’t catch.

“Sit down,” Baze ordered. “Get under a blanket. If that sweat freezes in your clothes before you’ve got body heat in a blanket even the fire won’t save you.”

Chirrut seemed—almost giddy. Briefly, Baze wondered if it was because the oxygen was thinner up here—and it worried him. What wasn’t there to worry about. Baze shook out both the blankets and put them around Chirrut’s shoulders, then with a towel, began chafing his skin to get the drying sweat off.

“Hey, stop that!” Chirrut complained.

“I won’t. Don’t you learn anything about survival as a monk?” Baze muttered to himself, softening his gruff tone with a gentle kiss to the back of Chirrut’s neck. “I’m proud of your accomplishment, but if you die before you can tell that damn Epan Se where he can stuff his superior attitude, I’ll never forgive you.”

Chirrut relaxed a bit, then, allowing himself to be fussed over, and was stunned into silence by Baze's—well, his concern was nothing new, but his...pride in Chirrut? That was new. Chirrut really hoped he hadn't attempted the seventh doan just to impress Baze, though he could already think of several further dangerous things he would gladly try if they would impress his boyfriend. But this was about Chirrut and the Force, not Baze.

Except, everything was secretly about Baze.

"N-no," Chirrut finally answered. "We don't learn much. The Force will provide. How does it feel being the hand of the Force several times in one day?"

“I hope the Force doesn’t give you as many handjobs as I do,” Baze growled his way through the joke, before returning to heating up some warm broth for Chirrut to drink.

Chirrut laughed and accepted the drink, taking slow, small sips. He wished it were water, but he wasn't going to complain.

He leaned back against Bessie, sharing warmth with the old nag, and let himself relax. It was still cold, but not bitterly so. He felt in no danger of dying any time soon.

"Will you let me tend to your arm?" Chirrut asked. "I can't tell how bad it is. Is it bad?"

Baze settled down next to Chirrut, sharing the blankets with him—his hands were freezing, but felt a little better from being warmed by the fire. He remembered, then, the mittens at his belt, and pulled them out, passing them to Chirrut.

“The bird bit me,” Baze observed, only now really looking at the wound. “But it’s... clotting or freezing. The effect’s the same. A bandage will do for now, but when we get down the mountain some I’ll have Alussa clean it out—don’t know what else was in that bird’s mouth.”

Chirrut frowned, but he supposed that was the best they could do for now. He wrapped the wound with clumsy fingers, but if he hurt Baze further, the man didn’t say. "Are you sure it's wrapped up all right? I—I'm sorry."

The fear that he could lose Baze for disobedience gripped him again. He wasn't normally so fearful. He needed to calm down.

Baze put his good arm around Chirrut’s shoulders and pulled them together, breathing out, shaking his head. “You could have waited for spring.”

“ _You_ could have waited for spring, too,” Chirrut said.

There it was: he had done this for Baze and no one else.

Chirrut smiled and tilted his face up, pressing his lips to the crystals clinging to Baze's beard, breathing into him like the heat inside him might protect Baze for ever. "You know me. I don't have much patience on a good day."

Today—perhaps yesterday, now— _hadn't_ been a good day. Still, "I'm sorry," he repeated.

“ _I_ will be waiting for the spring,” Baze said, firmly. When Chirrut was done winding his arm with bandages, he covered Chirrut’s hands firmly with the mittens Alussa had sent up, and leaned them together.

"How does it feel being the smart one _and_ handsome one of the two of us?" Chirrut asked, nuzzling close to Baze, as much just to feel him close as to share warmth with him.

“Far less satisfying than you’d think. By the way, Master Sidhava kicked Epan Se’s ass when he found out Epan Se had been holding out on where you were,” Baze informed Chirrut. “ _That_ was very satisfying.”

"I _did_ tell him in confidence," Chirrut defended, though he did take a kind of petty delight in hearing this. "I didn't want anyone to come after me. Though in retrospect, I am glad the Force had other ideas.”

Baze sipped his own broth, watching the fire, feeling warmth slowly seeping back into him. “So you’ve achieved the seventh doan. What does that mean?”

"It means I hold the same rank as Master Epan Se, so if you have a problem with him, I can settle it. And it means I am as close to the Force as a mortal can be. And, oh, I feel it," he said, smiling, and looked up as though he could see the stars. "I feel it best when I am with you. I feel it strongest running through you, my Baze."

He took Baze's hand, though they were both thick with mittens.

"Oh, and I get to carry a bowcaster," he added with a grin that absolutely did not befit his rank.

“Like that one the slavers stole?” Baze wondered, considering. “It was a nice weapon. But it’s a...er...I should know better than to assume you can’t manage a projectile weapon. Shame on me.”

"Well, not without my echo-box, or a target that makes noise." Chirrut grinned. "You can imagine I don't get a lot of offers to help me practice my aim. And I've never liked the idea of shooting birds until, well, today, and only if they are trying to eat my boyfriend."

Baze shook his head, and leaned over to kiss Chirrut’s temple, giving Bessie a grateful pat.

“I suppose I’ll need to know what the other six doans are,” Baze observed, mildly.

"You sound so resigned," Chirrut teased, and turned and pressed his forehead to Baze's chin, basking in the permanence of this, the safety in his embrace, the security that the Force was with them.

"You'll be glad to know none of the rest of them are quite so dangerous. Most require study and memorization. The last three are the physical tests—to encourage reliance on the Force rather than one's youth, I think. Though it is possible to complete them all in—I think our record is six years?"

“If it’s a lot of memorization, I won’t be breaking any records,” Baze said. “But I can keep trying. It’s the pursuit of betterment that’s important, right?”

“Right.”

For a time, he was quiet, comfortable, leaned against Chirrut and Bessie breathing softly behind them, with the blankets slung over her. It was still cold, and Baze hiked his knitted hat lower on his head to cover his ears, and occasionally cupped his warmed hands over his nose when it started to hurt.

Chirrut was listing to one side, more because his ass hurt sitting on the cold ground than that he was tired, and as he began to tip his head into Baze's lap, he just got up and just scrambled into his lap, "For warmth."

Then, Baze remembered. “You owe me five credits.”

Chirrut laughed. "Five credits! You know I don't have a cent of my own money. I'll have to pay you in services."

He waggled his eyebrows and laughed again. "What on earth do I owe you five credits for?"

“When I came to enlist Alussa and Nan-in’s aide in rescuing you, they were making out,” Baze said.

"They were _not_!" Chirrut gasped, and then he laughed again. His laughter echoed back to him from the stones, and he relaxed further against Baze's chest.

“They were so,” Baze said. “I think I held my surprise in check admirably.”

After a moment’s thought, he looked back the direction they came. “Come to think of it, they have a nice private tent—maybe we should wait a bit before we head back.”

Chirrut chuckled.

" _We_ have a nice private mountain," he pointed out, pressing a kiss to Baze's neck, where he was quite warm. "If we want to wait until at least one of us can see our descent, I wouldn't argue."

“Yes but it’s colder up here, so no funny business,” Baze said, wrapping his arms around Chirrut’s middle, and wrapping the blankets more tightly around both of them. “I could stand to sleep, though, and I rode most of the way!”

"We can sleep," Chirrut agreed, and yawned, and closed his eyes. "The Force will protect us."

He felt almost _warm_ like this, between Baze and the fire, and if that bird came back, Bessie would awaken them, and he had achieved the seventh doan and the Force was real and Baze was _here_ and before Chirrut knew it, he was asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

When Chirrut woke, it was still cold, but he could feel warmth on his face even though the fire had burned out. His face was  _ warm _ , actually, and he felt loose and light, full of energy. Bessie was shifting, and Chirrut shook his companion awake before she decided to get up without them. 

"Is it light?" he asked.

Baze groaned awake—sleeping sitting up hadn’t done anything kind to his sore muscles, and he blinked his eyes open blearily. He felt...all-over bad. Tired, with a headache. His arm felt bruised and hot. 

“It’s—just dawn,” Baze said, blinking against the stabbing of the light, and then he sat up a little further, and Bessie got to her feet and wandered a ways off to relieve herself—Baze guessed he was glad she had held off until she could do it elsewhere. He yawned.

“My joints feel frozen,” he said, groaning as he got to his feet. His back hurt from climbing, his shoulders too. His ass and thighs from riding. His arm hurt from being attacked by a giant bird. 

"You poor dear," Chirrut said, rubbing Baze's arms and legs, and helping him up. "You shouldn't have come out here, or—well, no. I should not have, I suppose. Of course you will always come after me." 

Chirrut stood on his toes to kiss Baze. "Can you walk, or can we ride down from here? It is important that  _ I  _ walk down the mountain, and then I should like to ride with you, if Bessie will allow it."

The tauntaun had returned, and was nosing in amongst his blankets as though she knew he was hiding treats, and Chirrut laughed. "Bessie! I don't have anything!"

“I do,” Baze admitted, getting out her grains and mash to offer her a good meal before their journey. “I’ll walk her down. It’ll be better to stretch myself out, and we can stop wherever Alussa and Nan-in made camp and eat.”

He held the bucket out for Bessie with his good hand and led her down that way, saddle only loosely cinched over her back. 

"Okay," Chirrut said, sliding in against Baze's side, supporting the side with the injured arm. 

“Why didn’t you bring your stick?” Baze wondered, keeping one of the blankets around his shoulders, clutching it at his neck with a gloved hand. “I found your shoes down further, too.”

"Oh, did you? Thank you! I can put those on at the bottom of the mountain, too." Chirrut's feet were tough, yes, but he couldn't exactly tell if they had bled, and the thought of shoes was nice. "I didn't bring my stick for the same reason I didn't bring my echo-box. Trust to the Force. And, ah—I can't run with them quite as well. You know.  _ Really  _ run."

To Baze, it sounds a little bit like a recipe for running into a rock—or a wall—or a giant bird. There was Faith in the Force and your own abilities and then there was...Chirrut.

As they continued down, Baze leaned more and more heavily on his friend, beginning to stagger as his vision seemed to unfocus, and his aches grew sharper, deeper. He was glad when the tent came into view, coughing once at the cold air. 

“Your shoes are around here,” Baze remembered, distantly. “And I suppose if the tent’s a-rockin, we’d better knock anyway.” 

Chirrut took more of Baze's weight and shouted loudly. "Alussa! Alussa, Nan-in, we're here! Rise and shine!" 

Alussa scrambled out of the tent at Chirrut's voice.

"There they are! There they are! Quick, Nan-in, get Chirrut's shoes! Force, what happened to you two?" she demanded, folding them into her arms. The sun was warm, the wind wasn't so bad here, and they had a fire roaring. It was a paradise.

"Chirrut, you dumbass," Nan-in said, separating him from Baze. "I'm going to strangle you, you shit. Look at your feet, sit down." 

Chirrut found himself wrestled to the ground and his feet wrapped in something wet and hot, and about six blankets wound around him. 

"Nan-in! Nan-in! Stop! Help!" he laughed. "It's too much! I'll be happy with some water." 

"You didn't take  _ water _ ?!" 

Alussa laughed softly and helped Baze to sit. "Baze, what happened to your arm? Can I take off your shirt?" 

She pressed her knuckles to his brow.

“There was a—bird,” Baze said, and her hand was cold enough—or he was hot enough in comparison that he flinched away. “It bit me. I’m fine otherwise, aside from sore.”

But he let her take off his shirt, and unwind the bandage—the wound had gone red and angry, and Baze sighed, resigning himself to a painful cleaning.

“Here’s water. Drink it,” Nan-in told Chirrut, dropping a waterskin in his lap, and checking all of his fingers carefully before unwrapping the cloth around his feet and checking for any significant wounds. “Ah, you did a number on yourself, but it’s all little things. Did you make it all the way to the top? How would you have proved it if Baze didn’t come for you?”

"But he did! The Force provided!" Chirrut said, quite cheerfully. 

"You're insane. Look, he's shaking. Drink. Can you even hold that?" Nan-in said, guiding his hands to the  waterskin, but Chirrut was already gulping the water down. 

"All right, Baze, I'm sorry for this. It's just a little red, but we should wash it out before we go further." Alussa held his arm out over a bowl and began flushing it with nearly hot water and something that stung.

Baze hissed, but bore up stoically under the cleaning, turning his arm this way and that at Alussa’s direction.

“We should stop meeting this way,” he told her, bemused. “I’m starting to think you have a crush.”

“Back off!” Nan-in scolded, but it was teasing. “You have your own.”

“You’re not my type anyway,” Alussa told Baze, looking at the cuts, and sighing. “We’ll have to clean this a few more times and draw the infection out. It’s not deep yet, but it could be.”

“What is your type?”

“Apparently scrawny, gangly, and with a big nose...” Alussa listed, knowing Nan-in was listening—she was smiling so fondly Baze knew she didn’t mean any of it.

"And stupid. And smelly!" Chirrut added, and Nan-in tweaked his ear. 

"Friend, you should  _ not _ talk about how people smell this morning." 

"Watch it, I outrank you, now." 

"You can't outrank me if you're dead. Which you would be, if we didn't come after you." 

Alussa sighed, now soothing a bacta gel on Baze's arm and re-wrapping the wound. "Listen to them bicker. I thought they would have grown out of it by now. You know before you came along, I was sure Chirrut was in love with Nan-in! Might have made a move sooner, otherwise."

“You mean I could have escaped this whole Destiny thing if Chirrut had just settled?” Baze mused, as if he were actually considering it. Of course he  _ wasn’t _ —he was honestly glad these two had made a move and wouldn’t just moon around the temple pining, anymore.

“Too bad, so sad,” Nan-in said. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” Baze said. “Dizzy, but not hungry. I ate last night—you should feed Chirrut though, he barely ate at all yesterday.” 

"I was  _ fasting _ , it’s required," Chirrut corrected. "And why are you dizzy? Alussa, what's wrong with him?"

Chirrut tried to get up but it was no matter for Nan-in to wrestle him back down. "Sit. I will fight you, seventh doan or no."

"But—"

"Drink this, and eat this," he said, placing a small piece of fruit in one of Chirrut's hands, and a mug of warm milk in the other. 

Chirrut accepted them grudgingly, and ate slowly, but it helped the world clear up and not seem so loud. 

"Okay, when you're rested, we can put you two in the speeder..."

"No. You know I have to walk back. How did you even get a speeder?"

"We borrowed it, and that is a made-up rule."

"Who's the highest ranking monk here? It's a rule. And I am perfectly fine!"

"Here they go again," Alussa muttered.

“Next thing you know you’ll make up an eighth doan!” Nan-in said, exasperated, before continuing in an austere, ‘old monk’ voice. “For the eighth doan, also known as The Chirrut Is Insane Doan, you must eat nothing but small pebbles for a week and then climb the mountain and then ride the crazy murder-bird.”

"Okay, but hear me out, wouldn't that be  _ awesome _ ?" 

“You’re going to give him ideas,” Baze warned. “Chirrut, if you’re hell bent on walking, you can lead Bessie back. I have an infection, and have the sense to know it, and I’m more than happy to take the speeder, since I haven’t passed any doans.”

“I’m only on my fifth,” Alussa confessed, with a shrug. “I don’t plan on getting any more.”

"Baze," Chirrut said, smile vanishing as he followed the sound of Baze's voice to his side, dodging Nan-in. 

"Baze," he said, more softly, reaching out to touch his cheek, and guide him into a kiss. "You're warm. I—I'm sorry, my friend. You should not have been hurt on my account. None of you should have been troubled." 

Chirrut sat heavily, looking suddenly morose, and almost as though he felt as ill as he probably  _ should _ . "I suppose such a doan is nulled if it brought harm to others—"

"Oh, no you don't! Then you'll just have to do it again!" Alussa shrieked. "He's going to be fine, Chirrut. Stop being so dramatic."

“It’s fine, Chirrut,” Baze agreed, leaning their foreheads together—his own was warm, but no warmer than Chirrut’s. “I’ve had worse in the past and survived, and birds can’t get water-sickness. I’ll go back with Alussa and some bacta will make me right as rain.”

He grinned halfway, a wry smile that he hoped Chirrut could feel through the force. “But if you wanted to pamper me for a few days I wouldn’t complain.” 

Baze fully intended to take care of Chirrut right back—but if Chirrut thought he was taking care of Baze, he probably wouldn’t protest it quite as much. 

"I  _ know _ you've had worse," Chirrut said, his voice full of anguish, even though he felt Baze's small, sweet mouth turn up in a grin. He felt no shame in running his fingertips over Baze's features now, not even with the others watching (Nan-in and Alussa let him touch their faces, too, so it wasn't weird). 

So, he rallied, an attempt to keep the mood light: "So I don't know why you're being such a big baby about a few cuts. It's not like you've been shot full of slugs or anything."

Nan-in, at least, laughed.

Baze chuckled as well. “If you remember, I was a pretty big baby about that, too.” 

But he hoisted them both off the ground with as much steady strength as he could muster as Nan-in and Alussa began to take down the tent, fetching himself a packet of water and drinking it, offering some to Bessie as well.

“You still owe me five credits,” he reminded Chirrut.

"We don't know if they had sex yet," Chirrut replied calmly. 

"You  _ bet  _ on us?" Nan-in yelped.

Alussa scoffed. "If you think I'm spending a night outside the Temple with this idiot voluntarily and  _ not _ getting laid..."

"Alussa!"

"What? You snore. You just have many other fine qualities."

Chirrut laughed.

"I knew he had a big dick," he said, nudging Alussa in congratulations. 

"You can sense that through the Force, too, I suppose?" 

"Maybe when you achieve the seventh doan, the answer will become clear to you," Chirrut said, unable to keep a straight face, though he tried.

"Force, if you hadn't volunteered, I'd  _ make _ you walk," Nan-in muttered, blushing. 

Chirrut shrugged. "Still dunno where I'm getting five credits from. And I already made the sexual favors joke and he didn't laugh."

Alussa gave a silvery laugh. "One of the matrons in the Cantina is having a baby any day now. I could ask them what a man can get for five credits. A sad hand job, maybe?"

“How about his boyfriend keeping him company in the back of the speeder instead of walking home?” Baze suggested, helping them pack the tent, and then collapsing into the back seat—it had taken a lot out of him just to get up and move around. He knew his energy was all going to fighting off the infection, but it annoyed him.

“You can sponge cool water onto my face,” Baze demanded, in play. “I fought a giant bird for you.”

“Well that deserves more than a sad handjob anyway,” Nan-in muttered. “Alussa, I’ll take Bessie back. I can’t stand to listen to all of this the whole ride home.” 

"Baze," Chirrut sighed, but everyone was  _ looking _ at him: sometimes he could just  _ tell _ . 

"Fine, I'll ride," he said, because that part of the doan wasn't particularly strict. He was just a little worried about what would happen when he finally let himself crash. 

"Anyway, don't ask the blind guy, but I was pretty sure the bird wasn't going after  _ me _ . I probably saved you," he said, sliding across the seat to curl up with Baze. It did feel nice to relax.

Baze settled his head in Chirrut’s lap and looked up at his pale eyes and the fevered-excitement written on his face. For all the risk and all the exhaustion that was sure to come as soon as the high faded, he looked happy to have done it—so Baze could hardly begrudge him that.

“Yes, you saved me from the giant bird, but I still  _ fought  _ it,” Baze said. He reached up and slid his hand over Chirrut’s cheek. “I have to take oaths now, you know.” 

"Both true," Chirrut agreed, laying his hand over Baze's, mapping his rough, cool knuckles, uneven fingernails, strong, broad hands. He threaded the fingers of his other hand through Baze's hair. His brow was warm, but not too warm. His hair was dirty, but so were Chirrut's fingers. 

The speeder lurched, trundling along behind Nan-in and the tauntaun, judging by the smell. 

"Have to, or want to?"

“Want to,” Baze admitted. “I’m done with being divided. The Force is, or it isn’t, but I’m content to follow you and have faith in your faith, and maybe that’s enough for the Force.”

Baze closed his eyes, feeling for once absolutely relaxed and at ease with his decision. It is, he’s pretty sure, the  _ right _ one. 

Chirrut smiled. He half-expected that he would weep at this moment, but he was too happy, or else he didn't have enough moisture in his body. This felt familiar somehow, like a vision, or perhaps another lifetime. 

"And I will take the same oath, to follow you, and have faith in the Force moving through you." 

There were other oaths he wanted to make, but they weren't immediately important. "Do you want to go to the prayer room today, or wait until you're feeling better?"

“Today,” Baze said. “If Alussa clears me.”

“I’ll want your temperature to drop some before I do,” Alussa said, watching Nan-in coddle the old tauntaun with a slow pace and shaking her head. “But I hope by nightfall tonight we should have you normalized.”

“Tonight, then,” Baze agreed. “I can take a nap in a real bed so I don’t stumble over my words.” 

"Wonderful," Chirrut said, and continued running his fingers through Baze's shaggy hair. There were things he wanted to say, but none of them in front of Alussa, as much as he loved her, too. So, "I love you," he told Baze. He would say that in front of anyone. 

The sun was high in the sky when they reached NiJedha, judging by where it hit Chirrut's face, and it was growing almost warm. The Temple was bustling, and a small crowd waited. After easing Baze up to a sitting position, Chirrut bounced out of the speeder. 

"Master Sidhava!" he called, and hearing an answering call, ran to him and knelt before him. "Forgive my brashness, but I made it to the top of the mountain, Master. Baze helped me to return, and Nan-in and Alussa. Did Baze tell you he wishes to take oaths, Master? You see, I knew my prayers would be answered!"

Sidhava shook his head, looking down at Chirrut, then back at Baze for confirmation. He could tell, however, that Chirrut wasn’t lying. 

“Yes, Baze told me he wished to take oaths. I told him to give them to you directly,” Sidhava said, leaning on his own staff and feeling very old to look down at Chirrut, dirty and disheveled and yet victorious. “I suppose I’m grateful that with the last doan complete you have no reason to run off without telling anyone where you are going. Congratulations, Guardian Chirrut. Now you have achieved perfection and may wield the traditional weapon. You may  _ also _ be awarded responsibilities befit to your station.”

Sidhava considered him, up and down, and the available positions, before he decided on something appropriately boring to serve as punishment for making such a fuss. He could always change it later. “Yours will be in the library, preserving and maintaining texts.” 

Chirrut's brow knit slightly, sensing a punishment—why else would he put a blind man in charge of the library?—but Chirrut liked the library and he was just so happy he wouldn't care if he was put in charge of chamber pots. 

"Thank you, Master," he said, standing up. 

One of the children nudged against him, and his staff was pressed into his hands. He bent over and kissed her head. "Thank you, Imin," he told her, and stood straight-backed before the assembly. 

"We will visit the baths before we go to pray, Master Sidhava. Brother Baze?" he asked, reaching out a hand behind him.

Baze took Chirrut’s hand, and traded looks with Master Sidhava, enduring Epan Se’s glare as they passed and returned to where they belonged. Alussa went with Nan-in to help return the tauntaun to her stable and get her settled, before returning the speeder to the merchant they’d borrowed it from.

“What will I need to say?” Baze asked, following Chirrut with a weary step—not because he was reluctant, he was just tired and sore. “I hope it doesn’t take too much memorization.”

Chirrut slid under Baze's shoulder, supporting him. The Temple felt like home, now, like the place he belonged, with Baze by his side. 

"There's the part that everyone says," Chirrut answered. "You don't have to memorize that. You can repeat after me. And then—you can make your own vows. I will renew mine at the same time, as Guardian. You can say—whatever, really. What you said to me before would be perfect." 

Chirrut smiled, and leaned in for a kiss. 

"Though I warn you, we will have to vow to 'resist' bodily impurity, which includes sex." He leaned in. "Though it says nothing about  _ succeeding _ ."

“Ah yes, I’m leading you astray,” Baze said, with a sigh, but Chirrut only laughed. 

Baze was glad—very glad!—to see the baths, and he undressed quickly, plunging himself into the water and feeling instant relief from the cold, and from his fever and aches. He hesitated then, remembering what he had brought back.

Before getting into the bath, Chirrut went to the laundry, just next door, and got two sets of fresh white robes for them to wear. The air and water were warm, and Baze's arms were waiting. They were a number of other good things as well, but that they were  _ there _ mattered most to Chirrut. 

“We could—” he began, and then he shook his head. “Never mind. I trust that you’ll tell me if you decide spiritual purity is more important than bodily pleasure. Epan Se seems...thoroughly displeased with us for it.”

"Well, of course he would," Chirrut said dismissively. "Why do you think I went to him about climbing the mountain at this time of year, being who I am? Master Epan Se is a man of unyielding, unreasoning doctrine, and I—yesterday my heart could not bear to feel the heart of another." 

Chirrut blinked, and then smiled. "You see, I have much in the way of worldly attachments that I will probably never fully expunge."

“You can ex-sponge my back,” Baze said, blandly, as Chirrut got into the water. 

Chirrut actually snorted, barely covering his mouth in time. 

"That was terrible," he laughed. "You're terrible. You should feel terrible," he accused, but was only too glad to wash his back, anyway. 

Chirrut stepped up to Baze, holding his elbows gently and slotting their bodies together. "The only spiritual purity I am interested in perfecting is bound up with yours, Baze Malbus. If that purity should occasionally, or even often, bubble over into the physical realm, I see no difference in it, except that we are imperfect vessels for the Force's great work. Master—ah, I can call him just 'Epan Se' now—" he added with glee, "would call these sins. But I make the vows saying that 'these worldly temptations have no power over me.' If I were not allowed to make love to you, I should probably never stop thinking about it, and that would be worse." 

Chirrut smiled, and tipped his head up. "Is this a vow you think you could take? We could revise them."

“I can make the vow to resist,” Baze said, wrapping his arms around Chirrut’s middle. “But I’ll be careful not to specify how hard I should resist. I’ll make any vow you can.”

It sounded a bit like a challenge, but they were always pushing each other a little, and Baze liked it. He enjoyed being pushed to new limits, and he had to say that he felt like he belonged here—belonged with Chirrut, and no matter how that happened, it was a happiness he could hold onto. He could choose it. 

"That's fair," Chirrut grinned. "I vow to  _ attempt _ to resist the irresistible. Your thick cock will have no power over me, because I will indulge in my healthy and human desires when they get to be too much. I vow to attempt enlightenment in another life when you are not  _ quite _ so handsome."  

Baze gently kissed Chirrut’s forehead, and Chirrut sighed. 

“Baze? What changed your mind so quickly? What was your sign?”

“I found a man selling lubricant and prophylactics.”

Still smiling, now a laugh was startled out of Chirrut. "Really?" He squinted in Baze's direction. "And you say  _ I _ am a man of great faith. I would call that coincidence—but, then, nothing is coincidence!" 

Now Chirrut laughed in pure joy, arms winding around Baze to hug him. "Ah! To be called to the Force through such carnality! This must make Baze Malbus the most devoted guardian of us all!" 

He grabbed Baze's hair and hauled him into a searing kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

They went to the prayer hall, bearing only one candle and dressed in the clean white linens Chirrut had fetched for them. Chirrut wasn't wearing shoes again, and Baze could tell his feet  _ had _ been hurt from his climb, but he didn't want to say anything now. It wasn't cold in the great hall, but it was brisk, and when they knelt the stones were cold, and the candle was all that kept them warm. 

Well, and each other. 

Chirrut opened with the traditional prayer, which Baze mostly already knew by now, and he could kind of fumble through: "I am one with the Force and the Force is with me. Knowledge stagnates without the strength to act. Power blinds without the serenity to see. There is freedom in life; there is purpose in death. The Force is all things, and I am the Force." 

Then Chirrut reached for Baze's hand. "No carnality has power over me: I yield only to the Will of the Force. I vow to guard the Temple as long as it lasts and I draw breath. I vow to cherish all life, for the Force of Others is what binds the galaxy together. I vow to guard you, for in you lies the Force, and we are bound together in it." 

Chirrut flashed a nervous smile in Baze's direction, and in the dim candlelight he might almost have been looking right at him. "How was that?"

Baze covered Chirrut’s hands with his own, kneeling solemnly with him. He had listened patiently, still unsure about his own words. The hall was dark, aside from the light of the candle between them, the very small warmth they shared. 

The room felt older than he could comprehend, and Baze looked up at the shadowed walls for help, as if they might give him the secrets to everything. They might, but not today.

“Where you go, I’ll go,” Baze began, hesitantly. “Your guidance is the Force’s guidance, and I trust you to tell me when I cannot hear. No matter what else comes or goes, I’ll be next to you. Nothing else will tempt me, no questions will sway me.”

Chirrut had heard lots of these vows—he was a senior Guardian, now, and would hear more—but none of them ever had the open honesty of Baze's, nor did any others touch him so deeply. Baze said none of the right things, and yet, his words were perfect, even if he sounded unsure about them. He managed not to cry nor kiss him before he was done, but it was a near thing. He felt the permanence of this in his bones, longer than a few mortal lives: this was as old and strong as the Force itself. 

Baze wanted to sound more certain, more confident, but all he could manage was to look at Chirrut and feel a little awed, and a lot in love. All he could really think of to say after that was, “May the Force be with us.”

Chirrut laughed brightly. "It already is," he promised, and leaned in to kiss Baze, chastely, on the lips. 

Then he stood, and helped Baze to his feet. "It is done," he said, and the air seemed to clear, the gravity of the situation, the place, already gone. He fumbled about for the candle, and handed it to Baze, and returned to his place under his arm. He felt both protective and protected here, as they made their way out of the great hall. 

"Tell me what it looks like?" Chirrut asked, stopping them at the doors. "I want to form the memory perfectly in my mind."

Baze turned back, looking at the hall—though at this point, what it looked like was pretty much nothing. The lights were all out, after all.

“Right now, It hardly looks different to me than it does to you,” Baze said. “But it’s—hmm. It’s so tall that even if you stood on my shoulders, and stretched your arms all the way up, you wouldn’t touch the ceiling. It’s many paces wide. And the space, even though it’s so vast, makes you feel cradled and safe. There’s only faint touches of color in the candle light. A glow where shiny surfaces reflect.”

He ran his gaze over the space again, eyes trying to do the job that Chirrut’s wouldn’t do for him. “The colors are warmer than the air. Spring colors. Happy colors. I always liked that—Jedha is stark and pale, but in here there are painted flowers blooming. I would almost say that it might distract you from your prayers to have so much to look at, but it’s easy to close your eyes, even though you know it’s all there.” 

Chirrut beamed, his eyes shining in the candlelight. 

"That sounds beautiful," he whispered. He wrapped his hand around Baze's, around the candle. "What do I look like? And—what do you look like? I don't mean in a mirror. Do we look like, ah." 

He shifted, nervous, or unsteady. 

"Do we look like we're...together?" He didn't mean that, either, really: not did they look like an 'item.' "I mean—can you see yourself in my eyes, as you are in my heart? Or do eyes not work like that?"

“Hearts work like that,” Baze said, simply. “I can see you in my heart without needing eyes, just like you can see me. As far as the rest...well, I don’t think there’d be a question.”

He held the candle away from his body, to lean against Chirrut and kiss him a little less chastely. “Do you want it to look like we’re together? We could wear rings...” 

Chirrut drank in the kiss, heart comforted and even enflamed by Baze's sweetness. 

"I think that would go against the vow of poverty," he whispered, when they parted, and he went in for another kiss, pecking at the corner of Baze's mouth. "People will know." 

Chirrut surged onto his toes to kiss Baze a third time, flinging an arm around his neck. "I am ready to sleep comfortably with you tonight."

“Even though we can’t have comfortable beds?” Baze wondered, smiling. He took Chirrut’s hand as they headed out—late enough that they didn’t really pass anyone else in the halls. “It’s cheating if you sleep on top of me instead of the mattress, you know.”

"Oh no, you've found me out!" Chirrut laughed, and drew them out into the courtyard before kissing him again, with a little more bite in it. Baze’s kisses were intoxicating. 

"Take me to bed," he purred, pressed against his neck. "I want to climb another mountain tonight."

“That was bad, and you should feel bad,” Baze snorted, lifting Chirrut against his body and enjoying the friction through the thin, white robes as they kissed again. “What was that about carnality? You just said it but it’s already slipped my mind.”

Baze hurried them through the halls back to their cell, before they wound up anywhere someone else could stumble over them—like Alussa and Nan-in, the night before. 

Chirrut could barely contain his giggles, and let Baze lead them back to his room—he realized with a start that he hadn't been in it since before—everything. Before Baze had left, and he had expected it to be a lonely place again. But Baze was here, was back, and the cell was just the same as it had been. 

Only the people in it had changed.

But Chirrut quickly forgot about the room. It was always quite easy for Chirrut to focus, to hyper-focus, without the distractions of sight—he often had to work to keep from focusing too narrowly. But now he could fill his senses with Baze's smell, the smell of fragrant soap and the oils in his hair, the feel of his beard against his cheeks and lips, his hands, warm and broad and rough, the sound of the breath falling out of him as Chirrut tipped him onto his back on the narrow bed and slid on top of him.

Baze laid back and let Chirrut take charge, reaching up to ease his white robes off his shoulders and let his hands wander over smooth skin—he found a few scrapes from climbing, and a few of the other scars that living leaves, smiling to himself as he watched the honest way Chirrut’s expression changed every time he found a sensitive patch. He rubbed over Chirrut’s arms, then curled his hand around one of Chirrut’s wrists and pressed his mouth to the man’s palm.

“I missed you,” Baze confessed, wondering if that was truly healthy or right—that he hadn’t even left the planet, barely left the temple, and he had already missed Chirrut. Then again, clearly the same was true of Chirrut. Baze untied the sash at Chirrut’s waist and discarded it over the edge of the bed, and sent the robe after it. 

"I missed you, too," Chirrut said, sitting up so Baze could slide his clothes off him, and he fumbled with Baze's clothes, but had less success. "It could be argued that I missed you so much I went quite mad." 

He grinned and bent to kiss him again, tangled up in their clothes. Chirrut froze mid-kiss with an idea. "You said your sign from the Force was—condoms and lubricant? I—I think I should like to have you inside me—just like this. With me on top. What do you think?"

Baze felt the suggestion pool something warm in his belly, even as he sat up a bit to fully untangle himself from his robes. “I think that sounds incredible.”

He wanted them to take their time, which the occasion felt like it merited. Baze hooked a hand into his pack straps, pulling it closer to dig through and come up with the items they’d need, leaving the rest just under the edge of the bed for now in case they needed them later—they’d have to figure out some place in the fairly sparse room to store them later.

“We should take it slow,” Baze suggested, though he was already reaching to palm Chirrut through his underwear—apparently not  _ that _ slow. “I haven’t really done this, either, so if you need to stop, just say.” 

Chirrut made a surprised and pleased sound when Baze got handsy, and it startled a laugh out of him again. He spread his palms over Baze's bare chest and mapped muscles and nipples and patches of hair, straddling Baze.

"That makes me feel a little better," Chirrut admitted. "So you won't know if I make a mistake. I'm something of a perfectionist." 

He grinned, staring to the side, but it was really only so he could turn his ear towards Baze, to hear his every gasp and groan as he finished disrobing him. "If you need to stop—or I'm missing something..."

 

"Condoms first, right?" He grinned. “We really only need one,” Baze said. “Unless you’re planning on returning the favor, or there’s some sort of form that allows—it would be contortion.”

Chirrut held out a hand, and Baze put the pot of lubricant, cool and heavy, in his palm. He seemed to dismiss the idea as Chirrut laughed aloud. "What were you doing leaving via the red lantern district, anyway?"

Baze pulled open the packet as Chirrut unscrewed the top on the jar, and answered Chirrut’s second question instead.

“I wasn’t,” Baze said, stroking himself fully hard and then rolling the condom on as Chirrut’s hands interfered in mostly distracting, but somewhat helpful ways, trying to scatter Baze’s focus, as if Baze wouldn’t return the favor in a few seconds. “There was a man who’d had some bad luck at the spaceport, selling things off of a blanket. I had just been thinking about—it seemed fortuitous. I helped him carry them to the red lantern district so he could have a better market.”

He dipped his fingers into the open pot that was still in Chirrut’s hands and worked the sticky, slick lube between his hands until it was less cold, before he stroked over Chirrut’s cock once, intent on distracting him right back. 

"O-oh," Chirrut gasped, cock twitching in Baze's grip. His brain was firing off in all directions like he was seeing bright sparks of light, though he knew it wasn't actual sight. The Force was too busy being  thick and heady around them, like it flowed from their union. "Baze, you're going to have me blaspheming before we get started." 

He grinned and tried the oil between his fingers, finding it thicker than he thought it would be, and ran his fingertips down Baze's stomach to his cock, circling his hands around it. 

"Oh—wait," he said, and laughed. "I hope this stuff doesn't taste like engine grease?" he said, and dropped forward to take the head of Baze's cock in his mouth.

“It shouldn’t taste like—” Baze began and left it unfinished with a gasp, hips twitching upward as his voice dissolved into a rough groan. It shouldn’t really taste like anything; more a sensation than a flavor. Slick and liquid. But he was having trouble saying that.

Baze curled his free hand at the back of Chirrut’s neck, leaving a faint trace of the sticky stuff there, and rubbing encouragingly—Chirrut was good at it, at letting his focus coalesce right there, like nothing else mattered. It usually dragged Baze along pretty handily, too. 

“That’s one way to keep from blaspheming,” Baze managed, chuckling. 

Chirrut hummed and grinned, twirling his tongue before he spluttered out a laugh and had to stop. 

"Baze!" he cried, still laughing. "You're terrible. I love you." 

“I love you too,” Baze answered, pulling Chirrut up again so that Baze could reach to where he needed to be. “As far as being terrible, I learned from the best.”

Chirrut coated his fingers in oil and reached behind him, circling his entrance and pushing one finger inside. He had—never done this before, but so far it wasn't bad. He reached between them to take Baze's cock in his fist, slicking it with the lube still on his fingers. 

"Let me hear you?" he gasped, working that finger in and out of himself until it didn't burn anymore.

Baze lifted his knee between Chirrut’s legs to give him something to brace against, and then his hand joined Chirrut’s in helping to work him open, slowly—patiently—as if there were all the time in the world. As far as Baze was concerned, there was. Tonight, and tomorrow, and all the future.

He wasn’t normally loud in his pleasure, but he let his sighs and gasps and groans emerge without embarrassment when it was for Chirrut. His grip was strong and he knew exactly how to touch Baze to make him feel it. Finally, Baze sat up a little, pressing their mouths together to let the sounds mix as he worked one of his fingers in alongside Chirrut’s, with gentle insistence. 

Chirrut ground himself against Baze's leg, already over-eager and overwhelmed at all the sensations and glad for their slow pace. Baze had a beautiful voice, rough and deep, old even in a young man, and somehow also sweet. The sweetest sounds were when Chirrut wrung a gasp from him. 

When Baze got a slick finger inside him, he had to let go of Baze's cock and brace himself on his shoulder. 

" _ Kriff _ ," he said, feeling dirtier at the swear than he did at the ‘bodily impurity’ he was currently very much enjoying, and he laughed—nothing about this felt improper at all, no more than enjoying any other gift of the Force. Their fingers shoved at each other, and Chirrut could feel himself opening up, feel the way getting easier. 

"Gods," he groaned, because he didn't believe in them so it was okay to take their names in vain. But then maybe it didn't mean anything? "Fffuck, Baze, I love you."

Giving Chirrut’s cheek a nudge with his own, and then turning his head the other direction to kiss the back of Chirrut’s hand where it held onto his shoulder tight, Baze answered, “I love you too.”

“How is it?” he asked, a little breathless—it felt good to watch Chirrut be so into it, to anticipate what was coming even as they took the time to make it good and right. He could feel that Chirrut was slowly stretching, and he paused only to add some more lubricant, easing the slide. He stroked his finger slowly inside Chirrut, more coaxing than pulling. “Tight?” 

"It's, ah," Chirrut said, with a little shiver, and then a sharp hiss, freezing for a second in startled bewilderment. 

"Hang on, do that again," he panted, seeking something that felt actively, startlingly  _ good _ rather than just sort of weird. Baze twitched his finger, or else Chirrut found the spot again, and he groaned. It almost felt as good as touching his cock. "Force. Okay, that's worth blaspheming over."

“Hmm,” Baze agreed, thoughtfully, hooking his finger down again and pressing, giving Chirrut something to move against—pressure and distraction until he relaxed enough that Baze could work another finger in, letting Chirrut’s own motions do most of the work. He watched the changes on Chirrut’s face, careful not to push too much, to take his cues there as he began to scissor his fingers against Chirrut’s, to help stretch.

With his other hand he palmed over Chirrut’s back, feeling the tension that bunched and eased in surges of impatience, or as he moved himself, and then over his shoulders, rubbing firmly, over his sides where he was sure it wouldn’t tickle—enough to distract and reassure Chirrut, to remind him to breathe. 

Baze's hands were soothing and distracting and warm and big, and Chirrut felt that same exhilaration he felt on top of the mountain—except here he was warm, comfortable, not hungry, not alone. 

"I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me," he mumbled his prayer, almost before he knew what he was saying, and then blushed. "Sorry, you're just, ah—divine." 

Getting impatient now, Chirrut added another finger: the burn was back, but was quickly gone, and now if he removed a finger he suddenly wanted it back. Oh, no,  _ this _ was getting sinful, he thought with a grin. He more than desired it, he craved it. Good thing his bed partner was also his prayer partner, and his life partner, and the being in whom he felt the Force in the strongest. 

"Baze, I'm ready," Chirrut insisted, withdrawing his fingers and wiping them on—something. He didn’t care. "Help me."

“Alright,” Baze said, sensing Chirrut’s impatience in how he pushed himself now, how he pushed both of them—but he also trusted that if Chirrut was asking, he was ready. Baze stroked himself again with slick, and then guided, also wiping his other hand on the sheet, which he supposed they’d have to wash in the morning anyway. 

“Sit up,” he instructed, knowing that would be easiest—would give Chirrut the greatest control, and a fuller mastery over gravity. He eased his free hand over Chirrut’s thigh, briefly feeling how firm and powerful his body was in just that one gesture, and guided himself into place, before he let Chirrut do most of the work of easing onto Baze’s cock. He had to bite his lip against his hiss at first—it was tight—tighter even than he expected, but in a good way. Like fitting together unexpectedly.

“Chirrut,” he groaned, but he promptly forgot what he was going to say and left it at that almost reverent utterance. 

"Baze," Chirrut answered, controlling his descent carefully, rocking back and forth into it, enjoying even the shallow slide. And it felt  _ good _ , even if it was difficult—like running all the way to a mountain and then climbing up it in your bare feet. "That's, ah—you're wonderful, my Baze, you feel like—home. Like we fit." 

He grunted softly as he bottomed out, muscles flexing as he rode him back up. 

"Baze," he gasped again. "Thank you for coming back. I—don't know what I would have done without you."  _ Up there on the mountain, and in everything _ . He patted across Baze's chest, found his hands, linking their fingers, and began to move.

Baze curled his hands together with Chirrut’s, gasping—it felt like slow melting, fitting so well that the lines blurred between them, and Baze pushed up slowly with his hips to meet Chirrut’s rhythm, watching his face, the way his eyes closed even though it didn’t matter; just an instinctive reaction to how good it felt—and his own did too, as he let his head fall back so he could just feel them together.

“I just couldn’t go,” Baze admitted, his voice rough with pleasure, his words given freely and absently, and without his usual censor. “I’m not sure who I’d be without you.” 

"Nor I without you," Chirrut said, and trembled as with the next thrust Baze's cock raked over that bundle of nerves inside him. "Without you I would just be—just a blind monk, given himself up with his vow of poverty. I would be part of the Force, but incomplete in it." 

He bent over, kissing Baze deeply, long, until they both gasped for air. "I might be dead. Without you."

“I’d definitely be dead without you,” Baze reminded, pushing his cheek against Chirrut’s and holding onto him as he kept the pace up slow and steady—there was no need to rush, he could feel release building inside him even at this pace. It didn’t need to be frantic or hurried, and Baze found that deeply reassuring—like this was more than a bodily need but one of the soul.

“That makes us even, right?” Baze muttered, sighing against Chirrut’s ear, running his fingers through his short hair affectionately. “Even without the giant bird.” 

Chirrut laughed softly. 

"Ah, that's right. You are in my debt again," he teased, placing small pecks across Baze's face, mapping it with his lips. "But since we are now one, your debts are my debts." 

Chirrut could feel that Baze was smiling, and, bracing himself with one hand, he traced the other hand over his cheeks, his jaw, nose, mouth. He felt Baze's eyelashes flutter closed as he pecked around his eyes. 

"You are," Chirrut said, nearly brought to tears, like he was mapping out a sunset under his fingertips instead of one man's face, bearded and scarred and mortal, "so beautiful." 

The lines of the Force followed his fingers, or seemed to, and Chirrut thought he could almost  _ see _ Baze, really see him, that wry, open smile, his warm, kind eyes, and that strong jaw. His curls, now long and thick and freshly washed. Chirrut kissed him just to see how Baze's face changed when he was being kissed.

If anything, his expression seemed to open and relax as Chirrut kissed him, as Baze traced his thumb over Chirrut’s cheek too, then his pointer around the sensitive shell of Chirrut’s ear, and all his fingers through Chirrut’s short hair behind. They were so close now that when they breathed—which they did together, without either having to think about it—their chests expanded and pressed them closer together, and that each surge or thrust completed the circuit through both of their bodies. Cyclical, connecting.

Baze had to catch his breath after a moment, the corner of his mouth still turned up, eyes still closed. “You’re beautiful too, you know. Handsome, anyway. Especially smiling.” 

Chirrut smiled and turned his face away shyly.

"I hope so, for your sake," he whispered, sliding cheek to cheek and kissing Baze—and a gasp tumbled out of his mouth as Baze rolled his hips. "Fuck," he ground out, kissing him again, moving in earnest. He screwed his eyes shut, feeling the edge approaching, an edge into a thousand tomorrows. "Baze," he groaned, burying his face in Baze's neck, into his curls, as he moved. "Baze!"

“Chirrut,” Baze echoed, because the sound mattered more than the meaning, the desperate change in his voice as they both surged toward release, toward this one and the next thousand; the next day the next year, the next life. 

The pleasure of climax, less like having the air knocked out of him, was as endless as the nighttime that was his constant existence. He gasped as Force-lines winked out, tensed as his body locked down around Baze's, roared as Baze fisted his cock until he came. It didn’t quite empty Baze out, as he clutched Chirrut closer still and got a hand between them, curled his grip around Chirrut’s cock to help, to give him even more as they both tipped over the edge and then poured; like water from a glass. Pouring into each other. It left him full, panting and gasping and fulfilled.

And happy. Giddy.  _ That _ Baze hadn’t expected, but he laughed a little as he caught his breath—soft, joyful chuckles between them both as he drew together the thought that amused him so much into words. 

“Aren’t you glad,” he panted, interrupted again by his own chuckles. “My name’s not really ‘Private’?”

Chirrut  chuckled, softly—huffed once in answer—and felt all the strength leave him. He was dizzy, fumbling in darkness, though now it was a warm and comforting darkness. Not frightening or lonely at all. It smelled like Baze.

Shaking, Chirrut collapsed on Baze's chest, hot and sluggish and sticky and not caring. 

"Yes, I—" he said, and he was smiling, though he didn't quite remember what he had agreed to. "I love you," he mumbled, and lay as he had fallen and knew no more.

“Chirrut?” Baze asked, and then discovered he was quite asleep—practically unconscious. But his heartbeat was slow and even, his face wore a peaceful expression, and his breathing was deep and even.

Baze sighed, and shifted Chirrut gently onto the bed, retrieving a warm cloth to get them both clean, disposing of the garbage in the much abused trash can, and taking care of his unconscious, over-achieving boyfriend before climbing back into bed with him. Chirrut was entirely boneless, and slept like the dead, not even stirring as Baze pulled their bodies together against the freezing cold Jedha night and tugged the blankets over them both.

He bet that in the morning, despite all they’d both been through, they’d both feel like a million credits. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to ravencourt, who not only comments on every chapter, but is also the FIRST to comment on every chapter. You keep us going! <3

Chirrut would have slept for two days straight, if a concerned Baze hadn't dragged him awake to eat something and use the chamber pot. As it was, he wasn't too communicative, and went right back to sleep. But Alussa, when she came by to check on them, said he was alright, and that Baze was, too, and gave him some pills against infection, and she left them alone, and even sent Nan-in back to dispose of their rubbish and dirty sheets.

When Chirrut finally, actually woke up, he felt very refreshed, and stretched and arched back against Baze.

"Mm, sleep good?" he asked, smiling dopily.

Baze laughed, a low, rich chuckle. “I slept fine. Not as well as you, apparently. How do you feel?”

He wrapped his arms around Chirrut’s middle and arched their bodies together in a long stretch, yawning against the back of Chirrut’s neck and feeling the way his sore muscles first protested, then relaxed and felt good.

Chirrut whined a bit, and rubbed his eyes: they felt sticky and gummy, even if he couldn't see any worse out of them.

"Oh my gods, I can't see. Baze, I'm blind," he said, still too tired to put much effort into the joke, but it got a laugh out of Baze and Chirrut ran a hand over the arm wrapped around him, scratching lightly with his fingernails.

“The sex was that good, huh? You passed out? I’ll have to restrain myself in the future from pounding my boyfriend into unconsciousness,” Baze teased, pressing his mouth against Chirrut’s shoulder, and the back of his neck, and behind his ear.

Chirrut was giggling, as much from the teasing kisses as the teasing words.

"Oh, yes. I am quite breakable," he said, and turned to meet Baze's lips.

"What time is it?" he asked, thinking he had overslept perhaps a few hours.

“It was all that luxurious living,” Baze agreed, pulling Chirrut against him comfortably, and then glancing up at the window for an estimation of the time. The sun was already well past the apex of its arch, and the yellow quality of the evening light said it was still quite late.

“About an hour before the evening prayer,” Baze said. “Are you hungry? Alussa said you might be when you woke up, after expending all that energy.”

Chirrut was so hungry he was sure he could eat the Temple's entire store of rice. He hummed into Baze's arms, still smiling, until Baze's words sunk in and he started up with a wild flail.

"The _evening_ prayer?!" he yelped, and scrambled up in a panic, only for his sore and stiff legs to wobble out from underneath him. He tried getting up again. "I've missed almost my first full day as Guardian?"

“The first two days, if you’re counting,” Baze revealed. “It’s evening the _next_ day.”

Baze wrapped his arms around Chirrut’s middle and hung on tight, pulling him back to the bed before he ran into anything.

Chirrut gave a cry of dismay. “Ai! Why did you let me sleep so long?”

“ _Let_ you? Chirrut I changed the bed sheets with you on the bed,” Baze said. “I would have had to throw you down the stairs to wake you up and even then I’m not sure.”

He kissed Chirrut gently. “You should take it easy, you know. You climbed two mountains yesterday.”

"Baze!" Chirrut protested (too much), and then yielded with a laugh. "Two mountains," he chuckled, and nosed in for a kiss.

"I am sorry I gave you such troubles, my Baze," he said, tracing fingertips over Baze's face, not shying from mapping it, just because he felt he now could. "How is your arm? I slept so long it must be all healed."

“A little sore, but healing,” Baze said. “Fever’s down, too. At least one of us had an excuse to lie in bed for two days.”

He kissed Chirrut gently on the forehead, tracing his own hands over Chirrut’s neck, and then his face, over his nose, his eyebrows, before briefly touching their foreheads together in a sign of affection.

Chirrut kissed Baze's fingertips, and sighed into the sweet gesture, allowing himself to relax. He had everything he wanted and the Force was steady and still, so there was no reason to be anxious, not even about having slept two whole days away.

“I’m going to go get some food. I believe we’re under fairly strict orders not to return to duties until ‘you can walk straight,’ per Alussa,” Baze said. “She might have been a little crab legged herself...”

Chirrut giggled, and moved up with Baze as he pushed himself up off the mattress, and stretched.

“What do you want to eat?”

"I'll go with you. I won't know if I can walk straight without trying," he said, setting his feet carefully on the floor and pushing himself to his feet. He flashed a brilliant grin in Baze's direction and waggled his eyebrows playfully: "Unless you think we have time for a quick breakfast right here?"

“Tempting,” Baze said, helping Chirrut up and then nudging his stick into his wandering hand. “But ultimately not very nourishing. Don’t say anything about protein, you need a real meal more than either of us needs any oral sex.”

Chirrut giggled. He hadn't been serious, and he _was_ hungry, the kind of loose and wobbly hungry one got when one had both fasted and over-exerted. But the Force had provided, and that was a good feeling.

But...having a full belly would also feel good.

Baze pulled on a robe for modesty, and then a second for comfort against the frigid air, and then held up Chirrut’s robes for him to get into.

“Did you dream about anything?” Baze wondered, idly. He isn’t asking for a prophecy, just about the idle dreams that deep sleep carried with it.

Chirrut huffed, sliding into his clothes easily with Baze's help (and nothing ended up missing or on inside-out), and he marveled at the easy closeness of this, how domestic and comfortable.

"I do not think I dreamt at all," he said. Chirrut didn't always sleep well—something to do with being blind, he remembered doctors saying when he was young—but last night was very different. "I'm not even sure I remember my head hitting the pillow.”

“That’s because it didn’t,” Baze informed Chirrut. “You fell asleep on top of me.”

He held open the door to let Chirrut pass first, reaching up to pull the ends of his hair out of the collar of his robe—it was getting truly long now, nearly enough for a stubby tail at the back of his neck, and was often in his eyes.

“I dreamed that everyone came to morning prayer with their pants on backwards,” Baze said. “And I had to try to prove that it wasn’t right. Nan-in was adamant that it was mine that were backwards. If everyone else says the back is the front, does it become the front?”

"Ah, a philosophical debate before breakfast!" Chirrut exclaimed, hooking an arm around Baze's waist. "You're taking your vows seriously, I see. That's a good dream!"

Chirrut was...pleasantly sore, he had now decided. The minor aches only reminded him of Baze, and of climbing the mountain (and was that now a euphemism _for_ Baze?).

"Your arm doesn't still hurt, does it? I would be glad to get two bowls," Chirrut offered, "and then come back for yours."

“It barely hurt to begin with,” Baze said. “Alussa said it probably only got inflamed due to bird saliva, as appealing as that is to think about. I’m sure they’ll let you have two bowls anyway, it’s not like many of us ask for seconds.”

"And I didn’t have anything yesterday," Chirrut said, appeased, but ran his fingertips over the bandage to make sure it didn't feel hot anymore. It didn't.

When they made it to the dining hall, Nan-in let out an utterly inappropriate whistle and was quickly reprimanded by the Masters at the far table, but Baze gave him a grateful wave anyway, since it completely broke any awkwardness and let people return to eating and chattering.

Chirrut had enough shame to blush, but only because he couldn't see who was there and how they were smiling. Then he made as if just realizing what Nan-in had _meant_ , and mused knowingly, "Oh! The mountain! Yes, that's what all the fuss is about!”

When they returned with food, only one bowl each, though Chirrut's was quite full, he allowed Baze to guide him to a seat, and gave Nan-in's wolf-whistle no comment, because he was immediately stuffing food into his face as fast as he could.

“Birdman and the Mountain Climber,” Nan-in greeted, as they joined him, both too busy stuffing their faces to answer immediately—the smell of food had made Baze hungry, too.

“Returned at last to the land of the living after transcending to that next level of understanding within the Force,” he finished, working his rice with his chopsticks back and forth as he watched them both with half a grin. “I hear you got assigned to the library, Guardian Chirrut.”

Chirrut sighed. "Yeah, I was hoping I had dreamt that part," he said, shaking his head, and took another bite, chewed thoroughly, swallowed carefully, and lifted his head.

"But no matter. I can devote more time to study and less to getting into trouble," Chirrut said with a smile. "Our Head Masters are very wise. Which means now I am, too!"

Nan-in snorted.

Baze chuckled—low in his chest so as not to disrupt his mouthful of food. “Just see to it you don’t develop the superiority complex of some of the Masters.”

“Brother Baze is wise beyond his title,” Nan-in agreed. “I hope you won’t forget those of us in inferior doan positions.”

“Inferior _what_ positions?” Baze said, plunging into innuendo, before emerging unscathed on the other side. “I’m supposed to prove I know at least fifty of the ten thousand forms in two days or else I have to keep studying with the acolytes.”

"You already know sixty," Chirrut said, relaxing his knee against Baze's. "Though the young acolytes will be sad to see their favorite member advance beyond them. So you might mess up on purpose, for their sakes."

"Anyway, we _are_ glad you're back, Brother Baze," Alussa said, with a kind smile. "You do much good with us and for us."

"More than just looking after Chirrut," Nan-in put in.

"But that, too."

“The rest is easy,” Baze agreed, finishing his food and leaning back, letting his knee push back gently against Chirrut’s.

“I’m glad you think so,” Nan-in said. “You can take care of him and help us with the chores he’s apparently too blind to do.”

“Who knew you had to see what a floor looked like to mop it?” Alussa agreed.

“I also have to pass the test to make me a full brother before I can do the important chores,” Baze said, giving Nan-in a grin. “Making my fellow acolytes feel better sounds good, suddenly.”

"That's the best chore," Chirrut agreed. "And hardly a chore, teaching the younglings. Especially now I hear they've got this big handsome hunk who's joined them.”

"That's disgusting, he's too young for you," Nan-in teased.

Chirrut would have retaliated but he was too hungry to fling even a single grain of rice at him.

"He's wise for his age," he offered, and got up to refill his bowl.

"Ah, Master Chirrut, already taking advantage of the privileges of rank," said Dina, who worked the food line today.

"Don't tease me," Chirrut said with a grin, and then sobered. "I'm sorry, is there enough?"

"Oh there's plenty. Just don't over-eat after a fast. You know better."

"I will eat more slowly, Sister. Thank you." Chirrut bowed and returned with a fresh bowl.

“In all seriousness, congratulations, Guardian Chirrut,” Nan-in said, in a more sober tone. He’d finished his bowl, and now sat back, looking satisfied. “If we had to place bets as to who would be running the temple after Master Sidhava’s finally had enough of us and ascends through sheer willpower—”

“He _would_ do that,” Alussa said, laughing. “If we don’t give him a heart attack first.”

“Master Sidhava is young and hale and fully intends to continue running this temple for another fifty years,” Sidhava raised his voice slightly to respond, without turning to look at their table—a truly wise monk never lost track of the pulse in his temple.

“Anyway, my bet’s on you,” Nan-in finished, with a grin.

"Eugh, I don't want that job," Chirrut said, quite cheerfully and loud enough for Master Sidhava to hear him. "I would have to be... _responsible_."

He gave a comedic shudder, and he heard Sidhava huff, if not laugh outright. No, he didn't want Chirrut to have to deal with these things, either. He would already have started several fights. But he would grow out of that and, if the Temple continued, he might one day make a fine Head Master.

Baze Malbus was a good influence, he knew, and ignored Epan Se's every attempt to insinuate otherwise. He pondered to himself as he prayed over his rice, and then looked up:

"See me in my office this evening—I have a mission for you. The four of you."

“This is your fault,” Nan-in hissed at Chirrut.

Chirrut sipped his tea smugly. "Fault? I just got us a _mission_."

"Yeah but then we have to _do_ stuff. Can't we just have a mission statement? We're a Temple, after all!" Nan-in complained, but he smiled and waved at Master Sidhava so he would know he was joking.

“Yes, Master Sidhava,” Baze said dutifully. He liked the man—he was always fair, even if sometimes the offending parties didn’t realize they deserved the true meaning of ‘fair’—as in fair punishment.

Alussa just kept eating—she’d probably like it, whatever it was. Sidhava usually had good ideas, anyway. Plus, having something purposeful to do would keep Chirrut out of trouble.

"But I want to see the Acolytes learning and copying Book Two today, Master Chirrut," Sidhava said, finally getting up to wash his bowl. That _was_ a punishment.

"They'll only take advantage of me," Chirrut pointed out with a laugh. "It's my first day."

“I trust you can handle a handful of children half your size,” Master Sidhava said.

“Some are closer to three quarters these days,” Baze said, wistfully. They were growing quickly- and some more than others. “Don’t worry, Chirrut. They like you. Wrestle a few into submission and show them who’s boss.”

“I’ll stop by and make sure they aren’t writing poems about farts again,” Alussa assured Chirrut.

"Ha. Thanks," Chirrut said, actually blushing.

Sidhava was almost from the room when he said: "Brother Baze? Would you walk with me?"

He stopped at the door and his face might almost have been that of trying to hold back a grin. "I feel like you might want an introduction to our Order from an unbiased perspective."

“Yes, sir,” Baze said, discarding his half-finished seconds to follow immediately—in fact he pushed the bowl toward Chirrut, and brushed his robes straight before following, falling into step with Sidhava, hands tucked respectfully behind his back and carefully attentive to the Head Master.

"Okay but I can't eat _three_ bowls!" Chirrut called after him.

Sidhava only allowed himself to laugh once he was out of range of Chirrut's especially prodigious hearing.

"Well, Brother Baze, never forget that you did ask for this," he said with a wry smile. "Now I don't think you need the full tour, but I'll give you some of the more official basics so Chirrut cannot claim no one ever told you the rules."

Sidhava knew he had little to fear from the ex-military man breaking protocol, but _Chirrut_ was another story.

"Can you tell me about what prompted you to join our Temple without mentioning Master Imwe's name?" He actually smiled this time. "It's okay if you cannot."

“Actually,” Baze said, following obediently. “I can.”

It took him a couple of minutes to compose his thoughts, lining them up so they would hopefully make sense outside himself. “I’m not very good at leading an unstructured life, Master Sidhava. Before I came to you, I was in the military. Before that, it’s barely worth mentioning. I tried drifting, and forging my own path, but it’s hard to keep focus when it’s just me.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps that makes me a weak man, but I’m happier to serve. To follow. And I believe in the message this temple offers, even if I feel no direct connection to the Force—serving the ideals of it are still virtues. Helping those who need help, guiding those who need guidance.”

Baze hesitated, and attempted a wry joke. “Learning to kick ass ten thousand ways...”

"Chirrut _has_ been corrupting you, I see," Sidhava said, but lightly. "No, these are good motives. If I could have more initiates like you and fewer who 'feel the Force' or want to purify their souls for oneness with the Force, I—not that these are not also acceptable motives for joining our Order. Some of them aren't even lying when they tell me this."

Sidhava led them up some steps to a high walkway around the outside of the Temple. The wind wasn't bad at this hour, though it was still cool, and the colors around them—where orange sand met blue sky—were almost harsh.

"We are not quite so strict as the Jedi were, but those we take to the Temple do not always join the Order at your age. Sometimes these are unfortunate cases like Dyl, or ones that are an asset to the Temple like Kai and Vix. But it remains that you are older than the traditional initiate, and I do not want to demean you by insisting you study with them—not for Pride, of course. If I thought you had a Pride issue we needed to work through, I would insist upon it." He smiled, though he was not remotely joking. "But I mean that the early lessons would be too simple, and I would prefer to see you cover a week's material in an evening. Which leaves your days quite open..."

“Of course,” Baze said. “And it would be unfair to take attention off the students who truly needed to study the concepts to master them—not implying that there may be some that I don’t.”

He moved to the railing of the walkway around the temple, placing his palms flat on top of it, and peering out over the city at the unending desert beyond. For an instant, he thought he saw the flash of massive white wings, so far off he shouldn’t be able to see any bird.

Then again, maybe it was just so fresh in his mind...

“How do you propose I fill my days, master?” Baze asked. “I don’t mind cleaning or sweeping or cooking, but you wouldn’t have called me aside for that.”

"We don't have a strict regimen, but every monk and nun is expected to fill their days with—as a rule of thumb—a third of each day in study of the Force, a third of the day in service to others, and a third of the day in pursuit of personal improvement and oneness with the Force. We all have duties, but otherwise how your spend each part of your day is up to you."

Sidhava moved to stand beside Baze. "We have a tale about one of our founders who would mark his every candle into thirds so he would know when to switch tasks."

He chuckled. "But the joke is that he spent all of his Service time replacing all the candles he used up."

Sidhava turned to Baze. "I think you could join Chirrut in his Service rotation—we will speak of this later. And as for Study, if you would meet with me for an hour or two a week, I could assign you plenty to study on your own, and we could discuss them at the end of each week. And Personal Improvement includes things like eating, washing, _and_ sleeping. So you see, there's actually precious little Personal Improvement time. Memorizing your first one hundred forms should fill it nicely. I think fifty will be too easy for you."

If Baze didn't know better, he might think the Master looked smug.

“Hundred?” Baze sighed out, as if overwhelmed. “I’ll try. I hope at least some of the forms involve a blaster rifle. I could remember those.”

"Some of them involve a bowcaster, so the principle is similar. Have Chirrut show you those—he'll need the practice as well."

The rest, Baze found wholly agreeable. It was a structured life, but also a freedom that he could learn to explore and embrace. Things to learn and to occupy him.

“So what does the temple do, for it’s service? There are many of us, and the city is fairly needy,” Baze said, looking at the landscape below. “We could rebuild it, if we could make a concentrated effort.”

Sidhava sighed deeply, and it ended in a chuckle that was almost manic. "Would you believe that was once my dream, too?"

He shook his head. "It looks doable, but materials are expensive and...there are not many builders left on Jedha. And the Empire..."

He clenched his fists briefly, and then relaxed them, seeing Baze watching him.

"It doesn't look like it, but we're in maintenance mode. Keeping our heads above water—and the city's, too. We have rebuilt parts of the walls, steps, public structures. We keep roads clear. We heal the sick and feed the hungry. We are not wealthy isolationists who do not see our city's deprived state, Brother Malbus. The Empire takes the kyber from our caves for basically nothing, because what good would it do to refuse them, or barter for better payment for our resource? They are sacred, but if we amassed them we would be like dragons guarding a hoard of treasure. You cannot eat kyber crystals."

Sidhava shook himself, as if fearing he had gone on too long. "I didn't mean to speak to you about that. I would have you and Chirrut and Nan-in and Alussa go out into the city, and help our people. I would have you dedicate more than a third of your time to that. They need it so desperately now…”

Baze was silent for a few moments after listening quietly to the Master’s words. “Well. The empire’s mining brings up a lot of grit and good clay and mud. To them, it’s garbage. But with a little moisture...it’s bricks, Master Sidhava. With dried grass—the kind even the goats won’t touch—it’s concrete.”

Baze smiled faintly, looking quite humble. “It’s not luxurious, but I lived in a home built from such garbage—reclaimed parts and hand-stamped bricks—for most of my young life. We had nothing of value and certainly nothing _sacred_ , but there were enough hands to build, so we built.”

He stepped away from the rail, shaking his hair back out of his eyes. “I know it’s foolish to think a little mud and some bricks will make much matter in the universe. I know we both wish it could be more.”

Sidhava blinked several times, turning it over in his mind. Yes, there were great piles of it in the catacombs below.

"And you have this skill?" he demanded, and then laughed. "But of course we have a library! And not just any library. Chirrut will show you. And this will be what you will study, until you think you can execute it. We will go into the poorest regions of the city, and we will build."

Sidhava clapped Baze on the shoulder. "The Force has sent us a true blessing in you, Brother. I think you have more to teach us than we have to teach you."

Baze chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m honored to offer what I have in exchange for what I’ve received. If the price for enlightenment is only the recipe for bricks...”

He shrugged—but that seemed fair in his mind, somehow. Like it was right. Enlightenment—the Force—was not _above_ everything but was around it and ran through it and in it. “I’ll begin the research right away. Thank you for having faith in my idea.”

Baze bowed to Sidhava, who was still smiling a little disbelievingly.

“Brother Malbus, you’re going to be a truly great Guardian,” he said. “Perhaps the most devoted of us all. I don’t need the Force to tell me that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> As always, we hope you'll leave us a comment below! And if you do, you should consider joining the [SWWA Comment Bingo Game](https://starwarswritingalliance.tumblr.com/post/164113801687/do-you-like-to-read-fanfiction-do-you-like), going from August 13th-August 27th. The winner gets a ficlet prompt filled by the SWWA Command Staff, so it's worth playing!

**Author's Note:**

> ****  
>  [ 94\. Midnight Excursion](http://www.ashidakim.com/zenkoans/zenindex.html)
> 
> Many Zen pupils were studing meditation under the Zen master Sengai. One of them used to arise at night, climb over the temple wall, and go to town on a pleasure jaunt.
> 
> Sengai, inspecting the dormitory quarters, found this pupil missing one night and also discovered the high stool he had used to scale the well. Sengai removed the stool and stood there in its place.
> 
> When the wanderer returned, not knowing that Sengai was the stool, he put his feet on the master's head and jumped down into the grounds. Discovering what he had done, he was aghast.
> 
> Sengai said: "It is very chilly in the early morning. Do be careful not to catch cold yourself."
> 
> The pupil never went out at night again.


End file.
